


Un Jour J'Irai La-bas

by tbmd1066



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amnesia, Disabled Marco Bott, Marco has dissociative fugue disorder, Multi, Titans still exist, definitely jeanmarco with some of the above listed ships in the background, set in Berlin, which is just a fancy science word for a specific kind of amnesia, yeah okay everyone is in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-08 18:25:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 27,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3218891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tbmd1066/pseuds/tbmd1066
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Johann Schmidt encounters a titan on his way to class, he's rescued by a group of people who seem to know him from his unremembered past. Will he stay with them, fighting titans as best he can? But he's not Marco anymore, so what does that make him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Literally Do Not Care

**Author's Note:**

> Okay this shit is kinda complex, since most of the characters are using German code names for this mission. It's a pain in the ass. I know. I'm sorry. I'll put who's who at the beginning of chapters.  
> Arend Jaeger: Eren Jaeger. Say it out loud, it makes sense.  
> Armin Arlert: guess  
> Mechtilde Ackerman: Mikasa Ackerman.  
> Krista Lenz: Historia Reiss.  
> Kord Shirmer: Conny Springer.  
> Sascha Braus: Sasha Braus.  
> Johannes Kirschtein: Jean Kirschtein.  
> Markus Bodt/Johann Schmidt: Marco Bodt
> 
> but then it's even worse than that, since their non-code names aren't German either. I'll explain that in later chapters.

“ _Il ne fait pas froid si t’y murs ont parfois, Les cloques de peinture sur les murs ont parfois, La couleur des sons que tu bois”_ Johann sang, grabbing the whisk. He stopped singing to whisk the eggs, concentrating carefully so that they wouldn’t splatter all around the small kitchen. The bowl tipped worryingly, and Johann immediately stopped his actions. He glowered at the bowl. Maybe he needed a heavier one, that wouldn’t spill everywhere when he was making omelettes. Well, he didn’t have one. So he just glared at the bowl. 

He almost wished Hannah would get up, so she could steady the bowl, but then that would ruin the surprise of his having made omelettes for breakfast. He thought a little harder, and wound up balancing the bowl between the edge of the counter and his right hip, so he could whisk with his left, and only, hand. He grinned at the now whisked eggs, which had barely gotten on his clothes, and he poured them into the frying pan, where they sizzled satisfactorily. 

“ _Et puis c’est tellement grand que vite on oubliera, Que nulle part, c’est chez moi, chez toi, chez nous quoi!”_

“Guten Morgen.” Hannah said, coming into the kitchen. “What are you making?”

“Omelettes!”

“They smell great!” Hannah said, smiling at him. “You don’t usually cook breakfast.”

“Yeah, it was kinda fun.” Johann said, handing Hannah a plate. 

“Thanks.” she said. “Hey, are you doing anything for Christmas?”

“Um, no. Why?”

“I just...” Hannah tucked a ginger strand of hair behind her ear. “I just thought that maybe someone is missing you.” she said quietly.

Johann frowned. “What?”

Hannah shoveled a forkful of omelette into her mouth. “This is really good.” she said, clearly wanting to avoid the rote conversation. 

“Thanks.”

“Where’d you learn to cook?”

Johann froze. “I, uh...” _Why does she have to keep asking when she knows I don’t know._ “Could be anywhere. I don’t know, it wasn’t that hard.”

Hannah was quiet for only the time it took to swallow her mouthful of eggs. “Don’t you care at all, Johann? There are almost surely people out there who are certain you’re dead, and it’s Christmas!”

“No.” he said. “I don’t care. I literally don’t care at all.”

Hannah stared at him.

“I don’t know them.” he said. “They’re strangers, I don’t even know that there are people who miss ‘me’. I understand that there might be people who are missing ‘me’, but I don’t really care, any more than for any other strangers missing someone.”

Hannah was crying. This wasn’t what Johann had wanted. He just wanted to make his roommate a nice breakfast before her exam.

“I’m sorry.” he said. “If I snapped at you.”

“N-no.” she said, glancing away. “I get it.” she quickly wiped her tears away. “Um... I’m going to my mother’s house in Munich for Christmas. And... if you’re not doing anything else, you’re welcome to come.” she smiled, albeit awkwardly. 

“Thanks.” Johann said. “I’ll think about it.” 

They both quietly finished off their breakfasts, and Hannah washed the plates. 

“It was pretty fun to make them. Maybe I should cook more often.” Johann said. 

“Sure. Ooh! Since it’s the holidays, maybe we could bake cookies!”

Johann smiled. “Yeah, that sounds nice. I could go get some stuff at the store later?”

“Sounds good.” Hannah said. “I’ve gotta get dressed, I have a biology test today.” she said. “Thank you for breakfast.”

“No problem. Good luck.”

 

* * *

 

Johann paced through the aisles of the grocery store, hunting down sprinkles. He was only sort of concentrating, being more concerned with figuring out how to get all his groceries back to his apartment. He looked at the shopping cart, and he knew he couldn’t carry everything by himself, and he couldn’t drive. He glared at his groceries, as if it were their fault. _Maybe I should only make one kind of cookie... It’d be cheaper, too._ He thought. _Should it be gingerbread or shortbread? If it’s gingerbread I can stop looking for sprinkles. Which would Hannah like?_ Johann took out his phone to ask her, when someone suddenly bumped into him, and his phone went flying.

“Oh, shit!” the guy who’d bumped into him. “Sorry, let me get that for you.”

“Oh, that’s okay, sorry.”

The other guy grabbed his phone off the floor and smiled at Johann with bright green eyes. “I’m Arend.” he said. 

“Johann Schmidt.” Johann replied. 

“Creative.”

Johann laughed nervously. “I know.” Arend stared at him for another uncomfortable second before handing Johann his phone. “Thanks.”

“Yeah.” Arend smiled, and walked off quickly. 

_Well, that was weird._ Johann looked at his phone, then back at Arend, who had already turned to the next isle. 

**_Me:_ ** _[should I get sprinkles?]_

**_Hannah:_ ** _[nah, that’s ok. :)]_

**_Me:_ ** _[gingerbread or shortbread?]_

 

* * *

 

Johann was glad Hannah had picked shortbread, it was a lot less ingredients to carry home. He breathed in the crisp December air. Berlin was beautiful near Christmastime.He thought more about what Hannah had said. 

It wasn’t that he wanted to cause anyone pain, really. He supposed it was likely that there was a family who was missing him, who he had once belonged to. But he had never seen them. He, as far as he could remember, had always been alone. No family, and very few friends during the remembered three years of his life. 

_Maybe I really should go to Munich for Christmas._ He thought. _Beats sitting at home, that’s for sure. Although, despite her being my roommate, I don’t really even know Hannah that well, it might be weird... At least I’m going to have cookies, though._

 

* * *

 

“Arend, are you crazy?” Armin asked, he and all the other five agents in the living room staring at Arend. “What do you mean, Markus is alive?”

“I saw him at the grocery store while I was getting coffee!”

“Arend, it was probably just someone who looked like him.” Mechtilde said, sadly. 

“No!” Arend shook his head vehemently. “I talked to him, and it was definitely Markus!” 

Everyone fell silent, all staring at Arend. All around the living room, the young agents focused on him now in shock. 

“But how can that be?” Krista asked. “He died three years ago, it was confirmed! No one survived that wreck, and if he did survive, why wouldn’t he come looking for us?”

“He didn’t recognise me.” Arend said uneasily. “He wasn’t looking too great, either. I mean, I _know_ it was Markus, definitely, but, he looked... Well, he was...” Arend ran his fingers through his hair, and sat on the couch next to Kord. “He sure didn’t escape that building unscathed.” 

Everyone felt uneasy at that. Kord was about to ask what he meant, when Johannes walked into the room.

“Is Sascha in here? Yes, good. Sascha, I want a Mario Kart rematch!” Johannes noticed everyone’s faces. “Is everything okay? What’s up?”

Everyone immediately looked at Arend, who then looked back up at Johannes. 

“What is it, Jaeger?”

“...Markus is alive.” Johannes stared at Arend. 

_Marco?_

 


	2. Angriff Auf Titan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think there are any different characters from the first chapter... let's see...  
> Reiner Braun: Reiner Braun. (whoever would have known)

Johann began walking toward the school where he taught Italian. It wasn’t a very hard language to learn, but nonetheless required a teacher. It was a good thing Italian was easy to learn, since as far as Johann knew, he wasn’t qualified to be a teacher. But he was good at it. He liked teaching, and his students were nice and polite, if distant. But that wasn’t an unusual relationship to have with one’s students, and Johann was willing to admit that he might be the distant one. Still, no one was failing his class, so he had to be doing alright. 

Suddenly, Johann heard a loud crashing noise from the alley to his left, he jumped around and peered into the alley.

“Um, hello?” he called out. He heard a loud groan in response. 

Running into a dark alley to help a potentially injured stranger was something most people would take a moment to think about doing. Johann dashed into the alley without a second thought. 

Johann raced down the narrow alley to where he saw a file of rubble. He gaped at the disaster, the thought that this was what had happened to him immediately flying to mind. It wasn’t a memory, but merely a morbid knowledge. 

“Hello?” Johann called out, dropping his backpack to the ground and starting to pull bricks from the rubble heap. “Hello?” he shouted again. He heard a groan. “Is there someone in there?” he removed another brick, and found a hand. “Oh, God!” he choked out. “Hello?!” he dug at the rubble frantically. 

The hand closed into a fist slowly. “Run.” it croaked out. “Save yourself.” Johann finally managed to clear off the face. It was a middle-aged, blond man with a small mustache. “They’re coming...” he breathed, and his eyes drooped shut. 

“Who’s coming? Sir? Sir!” Johann took the man’s pulse. “Oh, my God.” he reached into his pocket to call 112, and then he heard it. A loud crashing noise from just ahead, soon followed by another. He looked up in terror, and was horrified to see what stood before him.

A bloody, naked giant, grinning grotesquely was staring right at him, with greasy, matted hair hanging in its dead eyes. The abomination loped towards him, still smiling.

Johann’s heart leapt into his throat and he scrambled away, yanking his backpack over his shoulder and trying not to trip. He panted as he ran over the uneven cobbles, the giant right behind him, closing in.

_I’m going to die!_ Johann thought, tears pricking at his eyes as he escaped the alley. There were a few people in the street, who seemed to have not noticed the monster. 

“Run!” he shouted. A couple people smoking outside a shop stared at him, then dropped their cigarettes on the ground and ducked inside. A woman looked over her shoulder at him. That sick look of pity he hated crossed her face. 

He could almost feel the breath of the lumbering horror on the back of his neck. 

“ _♩♩♪ DON’T LOSE YOUR WAAAY!! ♫_ ” he heard someone singing brokenly. A cackle of laughter came from behind him, though he dared not turn around. “Kord! Get its legs!!” the voice shouted.

“Got it!” he heard a man shout in response. “Dude! Veer left!” Johann assumed that that meant him, and he dashed to the side of the street, rolling into the side of a building. 

The monster roared in pain, the shrill noise reverberating in Johann’s rapidly beating chest. It slowly fell to the ground with an earthshaking crash, its smile still plastered across its face. 

Johann gaped at the blood and steam pouring from the beast. There was a woman standing on the monster’s head. 

“Are you okay, Kord?” she asked. 

“Yep, I’m fine.” the young man with the buzz-cut standing next to the steaming giant’s corpse said. He turned to Johann. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Johann fainted. 

 

* * *

 

Johann lifted his head groggily. He was safely buckled into the backseat of a car, with Arend at the wheel, and Johann himself wedged between two women, which most men might have quite enjoyed, but merely made Johann feel cramped. He could see that shotgun had already been taken by buzz-cut guy.

“Hi.” Arend said. 

“Aren’t you the creepy guy from the grocery store?”

“Yeah. You passed out, so we’re taking you with us, is that okay?”

“Um, no.” Johann said. “No, that’s not okay, why did you do that?”

“You hit your head when you fell.” the girl on his right said. “Does it hurt?”

Johann held his hand to the swelling goose egg on his forehead. “Uh, not much.” he lied. 

The asian girl looked like she knew he was lying. “Is it okay if I ask you some questions to see if you’re concussed?”

“I guess.” Johann said. 

“How old are you?”

“Twenty.” Johann answered.

“Are you sure?” she asked. Johann blinked in surprise. As it happened, he wasn’t sure. He’d said when he woke up at the hospital that he was eighteen, for convenience’s sake. Did this girl know something?

Apparently he’d been staring at her silently for too long. 

“What’s your name?”

“Johann Schmidt.”

Buzz-cut guy twisted around in his seat. “Johannes?”

“No, Johann.”

“Oh.” he smiled at the girl on Johann’s left. “That might get confusing.” Johann glanced at the girl, who was smirking. 

“Can I ask questions?” Johann asked.

“Other than that one?” Buzz-cut guy smirked. Johann glared at him. And while Johann had thought it was a pretty mild glare, buzz-cut guy still wilted. “Um, I guess.”

“What the hell just happened?”

The four people in the car glanced around nervously. 

“Um...” the girl on his left started. “Maybe you should start with a smaller question first.”

Johann narrowed his eyes at her. “Okay. Who are you?”

“I’m Sascha Braus, this is Kord Shirmer,” Buzz-cut guy waved. “And this is Mechtilde Ackerman.” Sascha said, pointing at the asian woman on Johann’s left. “You met Arend the other day, right?”

“Yeah.” Johann said. “So. What the hell just happened?” Everyone fell into another awkward silence. 

“We’ll tell you when we get there.” Arend said.

“Where?”

“Weiss Schloss.”

 

* * *

 

Johann stared up at the large white building. It looked as if it should be an office, or maybe an expensive apartment building, with corinthian columns stretching the outside of the second and third floors, small balconies on the second floor windows, and tall brick arches on the ground floor. It was intricately decorated, but all completely white. It wasn’t really the sort of building that one might regularly take note of, however. It was beautiful, but unassuming. It was no castle. 

“Weiss Schloss, huh?” he said, skeptically. “Okay, I get the Weiss, but Schloss?”

“ _A man’s home is his castle!_ ” Kord said with enthusiasm. 

“Sorry, my English is kind of rusty.” Johann admitted. Mechtilde translated for him. 

Meanwhile, Arend had already gone up to knock on the door. 

“Yo, Reiner, we’re back.”

“What’s the password?” came a muffled voice from inside.

“Let us in or I’ll bust your ass, that’s the password.” Arend replied. The voice on the other side of the door started laughing hysterically. 

“Reiner, let us in.” Mechtilde said, and the door was open instantly. Johann was slightly alarmed, not at the guy’s height, he wasn’t a _lot_ taller than Johann himself, but more at his exaggeratedly buff build. The guy was jacked. Also he was staring at him. 

“Hi.” Johann said.

“Holy shit.” Reiner said. Which was not the normal response to hi. He let them inside. 

 

* * *

 

“We’re back.” Arend announced to the crowd collected in what appeared to be a briefing room, with dozens of computer screens all around a large, round table, which was nearly full. Johann could see that the few empty seats would all be filled by the people around him. Which meant everyone who had a place here was here. It didn’t seem like a coincidence, and from the way they were staring at him, Johann assumed they were there to see him. He hadn’t had anything like this much attention before, and he hated it. He wanted to shrink into a little ball, or run right back out the front door. But who knew if what was out there was worse than what was in here. 

“Markus!” one girl cried, her hand flying to her mouth, and her blue eyes welling up with tears. And just like that, the entire table broke out in shouts of joy, everyone standing and rushing towards him, and Johann’s thoughts of leaving because just that bit more sincere. Only one person remained sitting. A young man, Johann’s age, he figured. At a glance, he thought his hair was a sandy colour, before realising it must be bleached, as his sideburns were only a little lighter than Johann’s own. He was staring intently at the table, running his thumb over the surface, seeming determined not to look at Johann. 

“Kirschtein!” Arend shouted, and the man looked up at him. Arend said nothing else, and the man’s eyes drifted to Johann. They seemed to be nice eyes. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm hoping to update once a week. My Psychology exam is today, so I'll have more time to write after that. (Yay!) I've noticed this once is a little darker than I usually write fics, and a little darker than I want it to be, so I'm still trying to patch it up with fluffy moments.


	3. Weiss Schloss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, again,   
> Johann: Marco  
> Johannes: Jean  
> Mechtilde: Mikasa  
> We've got a little more explanation about how this AU works, and I'll have more on the gear improvements and stuff in later chapters. :)

Jean’s throat was closing up. He didn’t know what to say, all he knew was that Marco was home, and staring at him like he hated the sight of him. He looked angry... Jean had never seen Marco be really angry at someone. But he knew, Marco, or Johann, didn’t recognise him. Jaeger had been right, for once. He could tell, looking into this man’s eyes, that he didn’t know him at all. It was almost worse than not having Marco home at all.

Almost. 

Jean stood, and offered his left hand to Marco. Marco took it. “I’m Johannes.” Jean said, although he would rather have given him his real name again, he knew he shouldn’t in front of everyone. 

“Johann.” Marco said, looking around the conference room with fresh eyes. His gaze fell back to Jean, and Jean had a wonderful moment when he wasn’t sure if he recognised him or not. 

 

* * *

 

Johann looked into Johannes’ eyes. He was staring at him intently. Everyone else was pretty quiet now that Johannes had stood up, like they were all waiting for him to say or do something. 

“Um... w-welcome to Weiss Schloss.” Johannes said, finally glancing away. There was a collective groan from the others, and Johann guessed they’d wanted him to sayor do something else. 

“Johannes,” Erwin said. “I’d like you to take Mr. Schmidt and show him around. Tell him our mission goal.”

“Yes, sir.” Johannes said. “R-right this way.” He gestured to a door at the end of the room. Everyone watched them with ghoulish eyes as they exited, and it made Johann uncomfortable, like he was being watched by starving souls on the other side of mortality. 

Johannes led Johann down a brightly lit hall. 

“So are you the one who’s finally going to give me some answers?”

“Um, y-yeah. I suppose.” Johannes seemed to still be extremely uncomfortable. “You have questions?”

“What was that thing out there?”

“A titan. To be entirely honest, we’re not sure exactly what they are, or where they come from. They eat humans, exclusively.”

Johann nodded and swallowed down a lump of fear. “And this place?”

“You used to work here.” Johannes confirmed. “I suppose I should give you a full mission breakdown, but instruction’s not really my job.”

“What is your job?”

Johannes opened the door, and gestured Johann to walk in first. After Johann entered, he switched the light on. “Well, I fight, but everyone does that, and clean, but everyone does that too, never to Levi’s satisfaction, though. My job is um, I- I make breakfast.” he seemed a little embarrassed. He went over and sat at one of the computers to start it up. 

“That’s a pretty important job.” Johann said, trying to lighten the mood. “What kind of breakfast?”

“Um, I make really good omelettes.” Johannes said, smiling.

Johannes blinked. “Omelettes?”

“Yeah.”

“I like omelettes.” Johann said awkwardly. His mind jumped to the day before, or, was it two days now? It must be past midnight by now. Had Johannes been the one to teach him to cook? Johannes was smiling, but he still looked like he might burst into tears at any moment. 

“Um, well, yeah. I could do the breakdown, but it might not be great.”

“Who’s job is that?”

“Umm...” Johannes thought about it. “We don’t actually have anyone for that. It was something we all received at the beginning of the mission.” He took a deep breath, like he was about to start saying something important that he’d heard so many times he no longer cared. Like something on fire safety, or how oxygen masks on airplanes worked. “Weiss Schloss is a pretty new organization. It’s been around for about four years now. It’s mission is highly similar to other missions of its kind. Our job is to keep the titan population in Berlin to a minimum. Weiss Schloss’ mission is unique in that while most titan hotspots are widespread amongst a city, or mainly in residential areas, the titans here in Berlin are pretty abnormal, and they keep cropping up in this area, near the University and Neue Kirche.”

“Hold on, I work at the University. Why haven’t I seen any of these titans before?”

Johannes smirked. “That’s what our job is. Kill the uncoordinated bastards. And since there are usually so few of them in Berlin, it’s pretty easy. We have sensors that tell us when one has appeared, then we send out a party to go kill it, although, I guess they usually show up in clusters. About three or four. The biggest group I’ve ever seen show up all at once was about nineteen of them.” a look of stale horror passed over Johannes’ face, and Johann could tell the memory he was experiencing was not a pleasant one. 

“That’s a pretty massive range. Where do they come from?” Johann asked. 

“Beats me.” said Johannes. “For an organization devoted to killing them, we sure know jack all about them.” 

“Sounds frustrating.” Johann sympathised. Johannes groaned. “So um... there are other places where this sort of thing happens?”

“Oh, yeah. It happens all over the world. In big cities, mostly that have more than three thousand people living there.” 

“How come no one has ever heard of this?”

“They have. Titans? You’ve heard of them before.”

“Well, yeah, in Greek mythology. But they’re not a real thing... I mean...” Johann trailed off as Johannes smirked. 

“Yeah, most people can’t see them, so they’re about as believable as fairies, and mermaids and aliens. But who knows, maybe there are thousands of people who deal with that shit every day too. I wish I could trade with them. Finally!” he shouted.

“What?” 

“The program booted up.” Johannes laughed. “Sit down. Okay, so this is how we kill them. You use the paring blades,” the picture on the screen had two swords out. “And you slice the nape of their necks off.” the figure showed the area on the back of the neck.

Johann stared at the diagram. “You needed the computer for that?”

“Well, yeah, because there’s other stuff.” 

Johann frowned at the diagram. “I can’t do that.” he said bitterly. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m missing my right arm.”

Johannes nodded. “I know.” he said. “But so is Commander Erwin.” Johannes ran a hand through his hair. “But then there’s other stuff you could do, probably.” Johannes clicked through the slides explaining how various equipment worked, until he finally stopped on a slide with what appeared to be a giant robot.

“So this is one of our giant robots.” he said.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah. This is RR-schurk.” Johannes said. “I mean, they’re still pretty new, so just for emergencies, but they’re very effective in battle. Also totally awesome.” he clicked to the next slide, showing the open hatch in the back of the robot’s neck. “I’ve never actually been in an RR, but you could probably pilot one of these.”

“Dude, I can’t even drive a car.”

“Well, it takes two pilots, so you’d have help.” Johannes powered down the program. “There’s other stuff, but it’s not too important, I guess.” he bit his lip, looking nervous. 

“What?”

“A-are you going to leave?” Johannes asked, casting his eyes to the floor.

“Leave?” Johann asked. “What do you mean? I don’t have any plans to stay.”

“R-right. People who can see the titans almost always wind up working for the organization, though. But um, you said you had a job at the university?”

“I teach Italian.”

“Night classes?”

“Yeah.” Johannes was still staring at the floor. “I couldn’t really do any work here, could I, though?”

Johannes looked up, furiously blinking back tears. “We’re always short of hands. And the damn building is never clean enough for Levi’s taste.” 

Johann barely heard him. He was far too busy staring at Johannes tears, which were threatening to pour over onto his face at the first chance they got. “Are you crying?”

“No!” Johannes wiped his face, brushing the tears away with vigour. “I um...” he stammered. “I...” his voice cracked. “No. I just, missed you. Or something, whatever.”

Johann didn’t move. He hadn’t wanted this. To intrude into someone’s life when they had thought him dead for years, and stir up emotion and feelings of hope, just to dash those feelings on the rocks of anguish when they found out that he couldn’t remember them. This was even more awful than he could have imagined. He didn’t want to hurt these people who knew him. He was more convinced than ever that they were better off thinking he was dead. 

“I’m glad you’re alive.” Johannes said immediately. It was as if he’d read Johann’s mind.

“Why?”

Johannes flushed red. “Because-”

“Johannes!” the door was flung open. “There you are!” Mechtilde was standing in the doorway. Johannes groaned.

“Yeah?”

“It’s um, it’s two A.M.” she said. “We should probably be getting Mr. Schmidt back to his apartment.”

“Well, I’ve completely missed my class with no explanation.” Johann said.

“I’m sure you can come up with an excuse to give your professor.” Mechtilde said.

“I am the professor.”

“Oh.” 

Johann stood. “I guess I had better be heading home.”

“Will you come back?” Johannes asked. 

_No._ Johann looked at Johannes. _No._ He didn’t want answers. _No._ He wasn’t looking for them. “Yes.” _Why did I say that?!_ But as soon as he saw the way Johannes’ face lit up, he knew why. And he knew he had to come back, whether he liked it or not. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to know, the R's in the RRs stand for Reiss Robots, because they were designed by the Reiss family. (manga ref!) and "schurk" is the Dutch word for "rogue", but I don't think it's got quite the right meaning. Afwijkend probably would have been closer, but it does look like a keysmash, and I thought it would really interrupt the flow of the narrative. (It's not actually that hard to pronounce, though.)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *cries forever over minor characters that /combined/ had less than six lines of dialogue*

Johann sipped at his coffee, leaning against his kitchen counter as he studiously watched Hannah highlight her textbook. He took a deep breath. “So I found them.” he said.

“Found who?” 

“...People who knew me before the accident.”

“Holy shit!” Hannah swirled around to stare at him. “Where?”

Johann furrowed his brow. “At the grocery store, funny enough.” he took another sip of coffee, since that was the only thing in the current situation he had full control over. And he was bloody tired. He hadn’t managed to sleep at all after he got home. He was too busy getting nowhere with the thoughts of responsibility, kindness, and golden eyes.

“Tell me about them!” Hannah exclaimed. 

“Well, um, it’s not like, family, it’s like, old co-workers.”

“Okay, are they Italian too?” she asked.

“Uh, I don’t think so.” 

“Well?” Hannah said, seeming to ask a question that should be obvious, but Johann didn’t get it. 

“What?”

“Are you going to see them again?”

Johann sipped his coffee. “I don’t know... if I should, I don’t know, do something? Go stay with them, which is what I think they want me to do. But I-”

“Go.” Hannah interrupted. 

“What?”

“Definitely. Definitely go.”

“Why?”

Hannah stared at him. “Geez, you’re thick.”

Johann glared at her. “I don’t know them! Why should I go stay with a bunch of strangers?”

“Don’t you feel like something is missing? Something like, I dunno, your entire childhood?!” Hannah shouted. “This is your only chance to get that back!” 

“But it’s not-!” Johann stopped. “It’s not...”

Hannah brushed her hair back. “It’s not _what_?!”

“It’s not my past.” Johann said. “Whoever I was before I lost my memories, I’m definitely not the same person anymore. I don’t need to look back.” Hannah’s image blurred in front of him. He brushed hot tears away.

Hannah sat down, toying with her highlighter. “No... I suppose looking back is stupid.” she attempted a smile for a second, but it wavered away. “I...” she laughed awkwardly. “You should never deny what’s right in front of you, though. If there are people out there who love you, and want you back, then... then why would you ignore that?” her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat.

“Hannah?” Johann asked. “Are you okay?” he set his coffee down and sat next to her. “What’s wrong?”

“If I’m entirely honest, I hate Christmas.” Hannah said. 

“Um...” Johann said. “I don’t really see how-”

“I hate it, because everyone always asks that goddamn question.”

“W-what question?”

“‘So, do you have a boyfriend yet, Hannah?’”

Johann fidgeted. “Oh. Um, Hannah, if that was why you wanted me to come with you, I-”

Hannah laughed. “No, I know. But I used to. Have a boyfriend, I mean.” 

“Oh. Did you... break up?”

“He’s dead.” Hannah said, with a thick voice. Her lip quivered. “His name was Franz. And... I wanted to marry him. But... nope.” she shook her head, and looked sharply into Johann’s eyes. “I would give anything in the entire world to have him back. For him to appear and say that there was a mistake, even if he didn’t remember me, or his own name, or anything, and was,” she faltered for the first time. “missing some limbs.” she swallowed hard. Johann nodded, trying to tell her he wasn’t offended. “I’d give anything for that. And I’m sure the people missing you would too. So please.” she said. “Please go back. I really, really doubt that you’re going to regret it.”

Johann sat back in his chair. “Well.” he said. “I feel like an idiot.” he laughed. He looked at Hannah. “I’m sorry.”

She wiped her face. “It’s okay. It wasn’t very long ago, though. I just...” she grimaced. “I can still taste iron in my mouth when I think about it.” Johann offered her his coffee and she laughed. She took a sip. “Ugh, that’s not much better.”

“Too sweet?” he asked.

“Not enough cream.”

“There isn’t any cream.”

She laughed. “Well, that explains it, then.” she wiped her face again. “Are you going to go?”

“I’d be one hell of a dick if I didn’t.” Johann grinned. “I’ll miss Christmas in Munich, though.”

“That’s okay.” Hannah sniffled.

“Would you like me to get some kleenex?”

“Yes please.”

Johann stood to go find a box. Quite a few people had been crying over him lately, he noted. _Am I really doing this?_ He thought. He wrenched the hall cupboard open, grabbed some tissues, and closed it again with his foot. _I am. I really am._ He could scarcely believe it. This was dangerous! This wasthe job that had nearly gotten him killed four years ago! He handed the tissues to Hannah, who thanked him. 

He went to go make another coffee. 

 

* * *

 

_*beep* *beep* *beep* *beep*_

_His eyes fluttered open, greeted by the fluorescent lights of the ceiling. They were bright, burning into his mind, like they were trying to find something. He closed his eyes again. His mouth was dry. He turned his head to the left and gasped at the sharp pain in his shoulder. His hand flew up to touch it. He could feel jagged stitches covering the tender area where his arm should have been, but wasn’t._ My arm is gone. _he realised._

_“Du bist wach! Guten tag, Herr...” the nurse trailed off, like she was looking for him to finish her sentence._

German. I speak German. 

_“G-guten tag.” he responded._ Herr. She wants to know my name. _His eyes widened, and he shivered with the realisation. He didn’t know. He didn’t know his name. Where was he? Where should he be? What happened to him? What happened to his arm? Where was... who..._

_“Was ist passiert?”_ What happened? _he asked._

_“You were found very near the hospital, with no identification, or signs of how you got here. Someone called an ambulance after seeing you. We don’t know exactly what happened, but your right arm was crushed entirely from your elbow to your shoulder. What is your name?”_

_That was an easy question. Just about anybody could answer that. Anyone could answer this question. But he couldn’t._

_“Jo-Johann.”_ Liar. 

_“Johann what?”_

_“Schmidt.”_ Liar.

_“Thank you, Herr Schmidt. Is there anyone that you would like me to call?”_

I don’t know. _“No.”_ Liar.

Who am I?

A Liar.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe we should aim for some happiness in the next chapter? There hasn't been enough fluff so far.


	5. Nerdbutts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Markus being a psychology student was ENTIRELY inspired by FarseersCreed's "They Radiate Like Stars" which is beautiful and perfect and you should definitely read it holy crap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just keep google translate open the entire time you're reading this fic, it'll make your life so much easier.

_“Johannes?” Marco asked. “Why are you always playing that same album?”_

_“Téléphone is my jam.”_

_“Yeah, I know.” Marco laughed. “But why? It’s the same album over and over.”_

_“Two albums.” Johannes corrected. “Dure Limite and Un Autre Monde.”_

_“Ah yes, my mistake.” Marco grinned at his roommate. “But you still haven’t told me why you like them so much.”_

_Johannes smiled, thinking about it. “I don’t know, my dad used to listen to them, all the time... I guess I just got used to them. He’d play them in the car, in the house, wherever. He loved those CD’s. Played them and played them while I was growing up, until they started getting too scratched to really work right. My sister and I bought him new ones, like, nine, ten years ago now... those are these ones. My mom wanted me to bring them here with me. I don’t think she liked them that much, I remember her always complaining that they were too... sad? Something like that.”_

_“Are they sad?”_

_“Um, yeah, I guess, yeah, they’re pretty fucking sad.” Johannes smiled._

_“I don’t speak French.” Marco said. “I don’t actually have much of an idea of what they’re about.”_

_“Your first language is Italian, right?”_

_“Yes. They’re not that different, but still. Different enough.” Marco stated._

_“Yeah.” Jean nodded. “I don’t speak much Italian.”_

_“Your real name is Jean, right?” Marco asked._

_“Yep, Jean Rousseau.” Johannes said. “And you’re Marco...”_

_“Boveri.”_

_Johannes smiled. “Nice to meet you.” he said, sticking out his hand for Marco to shake. Marco laughed. “You don’t mind if I call you that, do you?”_

_“Well, I guess it’s alright when we’re off duty.”_

_“Alright then, Marco.”_

_“Alright then, Jean.”_

 

* * *

 

_“Cendrillon est une chanson triste.” Marco said awkwardly, a few weeks later. Jean looked surprised, but he smiled._

_“Si, est, um, mio... favoro?”_

_Marco laughed. “Favorito.” he corrected. “È vero?”_

_“Eh... no.” Jean grinned sheepishly. “Non ho un favorito.”_

_“Mon dieu, ils apprennent leurs langues pour l’autre.” Reiner whispered to Armin._

_“Ce est tellement mignon. Arend et Mechtilde l'ont fait et maintenant ils datant.”_

_“Awww!”Marco wasn’t sure what they were talking about, but Jean had turned bright red._

_“Cosa dicono?” he asked._

_“Nulla.”_

_“Rougissant homos.” Reiner called out. Armin was doubled over laughing now._

_“Connard hypocrite!” Jean shouted back._

_“Quoi?” Marco said._

_“Niente.”_

_“Je suppose que vous avez raison.” Reiner said with a smirk._

_“Et il est rougissant bis! Âne.”_

_“Ah, désolé. Mon erreur.”_

_“I feel like I’m missing out on something.” Marco said._

_“They’re just being jerks.” Jean scowled._

_“No, no, we mean well.” Armin said, wiping a tear from his eye. “Really, we’d be the last to mean jabs like that.”_

_“Is everyone here gay as fuck?” Jean asked._ What the hell have they been talking about? _Marco thought._

_Armin started laughing again. “No.” he shook his head. “Some of us are aro.”_

 

* * *

 

Johannes scanned the small room. It had two bunk beds and a desk on the window wall. There was a door to what Johannes imagined was a bathroom, and a closet by the door. The lower bunk on the wall opposite that appeared to have been turned into a makeshift bookshelf, full of textbooks, and literature in various languages. 

“So, you’re a psychology major, then?” Johann asked. Johannes looked confused.

“Huh?” his eyes followed Johann’s. “Oh, the books. Um, no, those uh, those aren’t mine.” 

“Who’s are they?”

“Um, my old roommate.”

It clicked for Johann. His old roommate. Johann had been Johannes’ old roommate. That’s why he looked so startled, and seemed so awkward. They must have been good friends. “What are you studying?” Johann asked. 

“Visual arts. Painting, sketching, sculpting, that kind of thing. I’m not great at sculpting, and I probably won’t go into it, y’know, professionally. I’ll probably just stay in this line of work.”

Johann nodded. “Johannes?”

“Yes, Johann?”

Johann laughed. “Oh, geez, that’s going to be confusing.” he said. He paused for a minute. “What, um... what was my name here? I think I’ve heard it a couple times, but...”

“Markus.” Johannes said. “People here called you Markus. It’s a cover name, but, um, yeah.”

“Markus. Okay.” Markus said. “What was my actual name, if you know?”

A sad look came over Johannes. “Marco.” he said. “You just picked the German variant. I mean, that’s what I did too, but it’s still terribly unimaginative.”

“So your name is actually Giovanni?” Markus asked. 

Johannes blinked. “No. It’s Jean.” he said. “I’m from France.”

“Oh.” Markus laughed. “You seem very French.”

“Angry, rude, bisexual man with fantastic hair.” Johannes said, nodding. “Yes, I am the perfect Parisian stereotype.”

“Wait, you’re bisexual?” Markus asked.

“Yeh.” Johannes said casually. 

“Oh... I’m gay.” Markus said.

“I knew it!” Johannes exclaimed. Markus stared at him, and he faltered. “I, I fucking knew it.” Johannes started laughing. Markus blushed. 

“Uhh... where should I put this?” Markus asked, lifting his small suitcase up. 

“Oh, um, that bed there, is fine.” Johannes pointed to the one not strewn with books. 

“Which bunk?” 

“Either one.”

“So you’re on the bookshelf?”

Johannes laughed. “Yep.”

Markus set his suitcase on the lower bunk. “Um, the bathroom is this door?” he pointed to the one next to his bed.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” Markus grabbed his stuff and went to put it away. Upon opening the cabinets he found a surprise. “You use the same kind of hair gel I do?”

“What?” Johannes leaned into the room. “Oh, yeah. It’s good, yeah?”

“Um, yeah.” Markus looked at the one in his hand. “Um... well, we might get them confused pretty easily.”

“Hm... you have a point.” Johannes mused. “Oh, I have an idea!” he left the small bathroom and returned a second later with a permanent marker. He grabbed his hair gel and wrote a “J” on it, Markus handed him his, and he wrote an “M” on it. “There we go.” Johannes smiled. 

Markus smiled back. “Thanks.”

  


* * *

 

Markus jerked awake. Quite suddenly from the next room, deafening music could be heard. 

“TURN DOWN FOR WHAT!” Arend, Kord and Armin could be heard screaming. 

“Not again!” Johannes growled. He jumped from his bed and angrily crossed to the wall that was separating their room from the others’. “TURN IT DOWN!” he shouted.

“TURN DOWN FOR WHAT?” Arend shouted in response.

“Fucking _Jaeger_!” Johannes glowered at the wall. “YOU WANNA FUCKING GO, _JAEGER_?!”

Markus could hear Arend laughing from the other room. “SURE THING, HORSE-FACE!” 

“Arend, come on, not again.” Markus could hear Armin saying as he watched Johannes storm out the door. 

“Um, Johannes?” Markus got up to follow him out the door. “What are you-” he stared as he saw Johannes apparently getting ready to have a fistfight.

“Arend, come on! Johannes, can we not?” Armin was saying. 

“WHERE DO YOU GET OFF PLAYING MUSIC THAT LOUD AT THIS HOUR OF THE NIGHT?!”

“IT’S LIKE, TWO AM!”

“YEAH, AND SOME OF US HAVE SHIT TO DO IN THE MORNING YOU ASS! WE DON’T NEED YOUR BITCH-ASS TUNES WAKING US UP AT TWO IN THE _FUCKING MORNING!!!”_

_“WELL WHAT ABOUT YOUR FREAKY FRENCH SATAN MUSIC?!”_

_“WHAT THE_ **_FUCK_ ** _DID YOU JUST SAY ABOUT TÉLÉPHONE?!!”_

“Jaeger. Kirschtein.” Levi had come down the hall. “What time of night do you call this?”

The two froze. 

“Go back to bed now.”

They did. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the queer headcannons, amirite? Yes. Yes I am.


	6. We All Love Penguins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast at Weiss Schloss. Do keep google translate open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry about the mix-up! THIS is chapter 6! So sorry.  
> Okay, in case we have forgotten:  
> Markus: Marco  
> Johannes: Jean  
> Kord: Connie  
> Arend: Eren  
> Kriemhild: Ymir (I don't think I've had that one yet so there you go!:))  
> Hanne: Hange  
> Sascha: Sasha  
> Mechtilde: Mikasa  
> Aaand the rest of the names are exactly the same! Nice.

A cold breeze brushed over Jean’s shoulder, and he pulled his blanket up around his ears instinctively. Then he heard something he hadn’t expected. 

Marco’s voice. He was singing.

Marco was home.

Jean’s eyes welled up with tears. Marco was really home. Not quite in one piece, but _there_ nonetheless. Jean had left far too much unsaid, and he finally had a chance to fix it. 

“Close the fucking window, it’s NOVEMBER you lunatic.”

“Oh, sorry.” Markus said, and stopped singing Taylor Swift, or whatever it had been. “But actually, it’s December.”

Jean groaned. “Where did this year go?” he asked rhetorically. “What time is it?”

“Ah, quarter to five.”

Jean stared at Markus. “I’m going back to sleep until my alarm goes off. The kitchen is in the basement, but I can assure you that you are the only one who’s awake.”

“Ooh, it’s snowing!” Markus was smiling. Jean’s heart skipped a beat. “I’m going to take a shower.” Markus left in the direction of the bathroom, and began singing again.

“ _Il ne fait pas froid si t’y murs ont parfois, Les cloques de peinture sur les murs ont parfois.”_

Jean sat up. He’d shown Marco that song.

 

* * *

 

Markus sat on a stool in the kitchen, balancing Johannes' laptop on his knee. He was watching a video of penguins falling down, and laughing. 

“This is adorable!” he laughed. “Johannes, look!” 

“I can’t, I’m observing breakfast.” Johannes said, staring down the eggs and bacon. “And I’ve already seen it.”

Markus looked up from the adorable penguins to the sizzling breakfast. “It smells really good.”

Johannes nodded. “Yes...” he murmured. “I mean, thank you!”

Markus laughed. The toast popped, making Markus jerk and nearly drop the laptop. Johannes rushed to get the slices and place them with all the others. He examined the bacon and eggs. 

“I think it’s about done.” he said. “Here, put the computer down and help me out.”

“Aw, but the penguins.”

Johannes laughed. “Just come here.”

Markus set the computer on the counter and held the frying pan steady while Johannes scooped the scrambled eggs onto a platter. He looked cute in his apron. 

“Okay, I usually have to make two trips, but if you carry the toast, I can carry the eggs and bacon, and we can make a sweet dramatic entrance.”

Markuslaughed. “Alright, what do you have in mind?”

 

* * *

 

“BREAKFAST!!!1!” Johannes shouted, bursting through the dining room door. Noises of angered alarm came from all around the table in multiple languages, while Markus tried to hold his laughter in.

“Johannes!”

“Kirschtein, you dick!”

“What the hell, man?”

“You scared the shit out of me!”

Johannes grinned like an asshole. “Can I make it up with bacon?”

Murmurs of bitter agreement sounded around. Johannes laughed triumphantly and set the food on the table. 

 

* * *

 

Markus sat between Johannes and Kord, feeling a little awkward. Everyone seemed to be trying hard to pretend like his presence was normal, and not say anything, but he still felt out of place. _Maybe I should talk to someone._ “Your German is very good. Where are you from?” he asked Armin.

“Dresden.” Armin smiled. “This is the first place I’ve ever been posted to. I’ve never been outside of Germany.” 

“I still don’t get that.” Reiner said, between slices of bacon. “You have a passport. It’s like, what an hour and a half’s drive to Poland? Just go to fucking Poland.”

“I don’t have a car.” Armin countered. “And I don’t really want to go to Poland.”

Reiner sighed dramatically. “Well where _do_ you want to go?”

“Antarctica.”

“You definitely can’t drive to Antarctica.” Bertholdt nodded.

“You can’t even take a train.” Krista piped up.

“Besides, it’s winter, it’d be even colder there than usual.” Arend said.

“No, it’s in the southern hemisphere, it’s summer there.” Armin said. 

“You could hang out with penguins.” Bertholdt smiled. “That sounds fun.”

“It would. It would be fun.” Armin nodded. “But I mean, it doesn’t have to Antarctica. It could be Egypt, or Rome, or Scotland, or anywhere.”

“Anywhere but Poland.” Reiner repeated.

“I just want to see as much of the world as I can.”

“But not Poland?” Reiner still seemed confused. 

“Nobody cares about Poland, Reiner.” Kriemhild informed him. 

“I’d really like to see the ocean.”

“It’s like a four hour drive to the ocean!” Reiner exclaimed.

“I. Don’t. Have. A. Car.”

“Why doesn’t anyone own a car in this country?” Reiner asked bitterly.

“The economy.” Armin answered. “Also you can bus everywhere.” 

“Then why don’t you fucking bus to Poland?”

“No one cares about Poland!” Everyone said at once. Markus noted the familial exchange. This was a group of people who really knew each other. He fidgeted with his fork. 

“Οι έφηβοι.” Levi said. Hanne laughed. Levi glared at her, and Markus caught Sascha slipping Kord five Euro.

“What do you guys want to do tonight?” Arend asked, shoving more toast into his mouth. 

“Mario Kart.” Johannes, Sascha and Kord all said at once.

“No! No more Mario Kart! You guys get way too intense.” Krista declared.

“I think it’s funny.” Reiner smirked. 

“Let’s watch a movie instead.” Armin suggested.

“What movie?” Mechtilde asked. Suggestions rang out from all around the table.

“Captain America.” (Sascha and Kord simultaneously.)

“Frozen.” (Reiner.)

“Finding Nemo.” (Armin.)

“Uncle Nino!”

“No one wants to watch Uncle Nino, Krista.”

“But it’s so sweet!”

“Let’s let Markus pick, Markus hasn’t picked in like, three years.” Johannes suggested.

Markus smiled wistfully. “Sorry, I have class.” he said. 

“At night?” Sascha asked.

“Yeah.” Markus said. “I’m teaching an Italian class.”

“Oh, that’s really cool!” Sascha said. “Does anyone there teach Russian? I’m looking for some extra courses.”

“Sascha you already speak Russian.” Kord reminded her.

“I’m looking for extra courses for you.”

“Ανε?”

“Ναι?”

“Μήπως μπορείτε να μου στείλετε ένα e-mail ότι η εν λόγω “είστε ένα αηδιαστικό λίγο άνθρωπος” στα αγγλικά?”

Hanne burst into alarming, hysterical laughter. “όχι! αν και,” she laughed. “Αυτό είναι κάτι που θα ήθελα να κάνω.”

“Το ξέρω.”

Kord passed the five euro back to Sascha. 

“What just happened?” Markus whispered to Johannes. 

“I don’t want to know.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It would really suck to not be a morning person when you're in charge of making breakfast for everyone.   
> Also yes, the one in the third section in the middle of Jean's exclamation marks was intentional.  
> My apologies to anyone who lives in Poland.


	7. For the Most Part, A Ridiculous Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean has had this crush for so long. Damn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, really just... just open Google translate. Collectively these people speak twenty-one different languages, and that's a lot.  
> Kord: Connie Springer  
> Sascha: Sasha Braus  
> Hanne: Hange  
> Arend: Eren  
> Mechtilde: Mikasa  
> Kriemhild: Ymir  
> And everyone else is the same! :)

Markus surveyed the wide array of art supplies Johannes had dragged out and slathered all over the desk. 

“You can’t possibly be using all of these.” Markus commented.

Johannes groaned. “I’m not.” he twirled a fine-tip pen in his fingers. “We’re supposed to be doing a watercolour project, but watercolour doesn’t come easy to me... I prefer charcoal.”

Markus looked at all the supplies. “You have a lot of charcoal.”

Johannes laughed. “No kidding. Most of them are half-empty.” Markus picked up one of the sketchbooks and opened it to a drawing of a smiling woman.

“You’re really good.” he said. “Who is this?”

“Uh, my mom.” Johannes said, with a nervous smile. “That um, that’s, that’s an old sketchbook, like, a few, um...” 

Markus didn’t get the hint. He turned the page. It was cluttered with much smaller drawings of horses, flowers, and half-formed hands. He was shocked to see that the next page held several drawings of him. He heard Johannes groan. They were old drawings of _him._ Good drawings, for the most part. Almost as good as a photograph, for recognising his own features. But he didn’t look the same. There were the obvious differences in that the drawing had no scars on its face, and both its arms, but also the drawing seemed to be of a happier person. Laughing, smiling, with light in his eyes. Markus turned to the next page, where there was a larger drawing of his face, and he could see that each freckle was in the place it really was. 

Markus looked up at Johannes. “These, um... they’re, uh, me.”

Johannes had his head in his hands. “Yeah.”

“They’re very good.” Markus said. “So... why me? Is it just because I’m your roommate? Or... what?” Markus was surprised to find that he hoped Johannes had another reason. But at the same time, if there had been something between them, Markus would probably never remember it. It wasn’t any of his business. Johannes still hadn’t said anything. 

“Hey, Kirschtein! Markus! Dinnertime, come on!” Arend shouted from the hall.

 

* * *

 

“Tonight, no German.” Erwin said. Markus was surprised. Did everyone here really speak something other than German? He’d been there a week, and knew that most of them were from different countries. No one seemed terribly put out by the rule. “And also, no English.” That seemed to distress them a bit.

“Seriously?” Kord shouted. “But that’s literally all I speak!”

“Too bad, everyone was speaking it last week, and we need to exercise other things, Mr. Shirmer.”

Kord pouted, and Sascha patted his back. “Poor Kord.”

“All you speak is German and Russian, Sascha, you’re not any better off.” Mechtilde pointed out.

“Starting now.” Erwin said, and sat to his meal. “Bon appétit.”

Immediately the table broke out in a cacophony of languages, few chose to remain silent. Sascha chattered away at Kord in Russian, and he pretended to listen. “Вы должны действительно узнать что-то еще.”

“Mhm.” Kord pouted, pointing at the potatoes. 

At the head of the table, Levi and Hanne were talking in a language Markus couldn’t quite recognize. They looked very serious. “Κάλτσες μου έχουν τρύπες σε αυτά.” Hanne said, seeming uncomfortable.

“θα πρέπει να έχετε νέες κάλτσες, ηλίθιος.” Levi replied.

Closer by, Arend was laughing at something Mechtilde had said. “はい 、オレはできた!”

“エレン.　やめろ.”

“オレはできた!”

Meanwhile, Armin seemed to be doing his best to keep up. “ちょっと待ってください、何？”

“何も。”

Markus turned his attention to Bertholdt, who seemed to be one of the few who was just eating quietly.

“Er… Bertholdt?”

“ฉันเท่านั้นที่พูดภาษาอังกฤษ, เยอรมันและภาษาไทย. ขอโทษ.”

“...Uh.” Markus didn’t understand a word.

Johannes smiled. “Il ne parle que l'allemand, anglais et en thaï.”  Johannes explained in French. _Other than English and German, he just speaks Thai. That’s gotta be annoying._ “Et tu?”

“Em… espagnol et italien. Et françaises, évidemment.” Spanish, French and Italian.

“Mon italien est maladroit. Et français est ma première langue.” Markus knew that. Johannes was from Paris. 

“Oh. Et espagnol?”

“Non. Je devrais pratiquer mon italien.” _Oh, he wants to practice Italian. Did we use to practice together?_

“Oui, er, si.” Markus nodded. Italian was his best language, he knew. Apparently because he was Italian. “Er… come stai?” _How are you?_

“Ho fame.” _Hungry._ Johannes grinned. “Sascha fa bene… viere?”

“Vivere.” Armin corrected. _Sascha makes good food._

“Armin, laat ze flirt.” Krista said, breaking away from her conversation with Kriemhild. It wasn’t German… Dutch, maybe?

“Ze weten dat het praten in een andere taal niet niemand kan ze begrijpen betekenen. Net zoals ik weet wat jij en Kriemhild praten over. Het is geen geheim.” Yes, Dutch, Markus decided. Whatever he’d said, Krista was now blushing.

“Faen.” Kriemhild said. _That was something else_. Markus thought. Where was Kriemhild from… Norway? 

At the head of the table, Erwin was speaking to Levi. “Levi, avez-vous vu-”

Levi shot him down instantly. “Je ne parle pas français. Ναι, ήταν μια μεταξωτές κορδέλες.”

“μια μεταξωτές κορδέλες!” Hanne said, now laughing hard. 

“Είμαι σοβαρός.” Levi said.

Hanne laughed even harder. “Ξέρω ότι!”

“Erwin!” Johannes called out. Erwin looked up. “Vous semblez avoir causé un problème pour vous!” Markus stared at Johannes’ bold actions. 

“Tais-toi, Kirschtein.” Erwin scowled. Johannes laughed.

“Vous pouvez vous asseoir avec nous!”

“ _Kirschtein.”_ Markus was genuinely terrified by the look on Erwin’s face.

“Wat heeft hij gezegd?” Kriemhild asked Armin.

“Hij zei ‘U kunt bij ons zitten’.”

“Ik begrijp het niet.”

“Markus!” Reiner called out. “Mangez vos aliments, avant qu'il ne fasse froid.” 

“Oh!” Markus looked at his plate. On it was a hearty serving of meat and potatoes. “Il semble délicieux.” he said, in Sascha’s general direction. 

“Délicieux?” she asked.

Most of the trainees fell silent. No one else spoke Russian, evidently. Arend shrugged and gave Sascha two thumbs up. 

“Ah!” she nodded. “Спасибо!”

Markus gripped the spoon in his hand and shovelled a forkfull of creamy potatoes into his mouth. 

Everyone fell relatively silent, eating heartily. Though, at the head of the table, Hanne and Levi were still speaking to one another with intensity. “Armin ήταν απλά λέγοντας ότι οι άνθρωποι μπορούν να καταλάβουν όταν Kriemhild και Krista φλερτάρουν στα ολλανδικά.” Hanne said, poking at their still barely-touched food. 

“Και λοιπόν?”

“είμαστε οι μόνοι που μιλούν ελληνικά.”

_What language is that?_ Markus wondered. 

“Θέλετε να φλερτάρουν?” Levi looked surprised.

“Ναι. Μπορείτε να ξεκινήσετε.”

“Έχετε ένα ωραίο κώλο.” Hanne glared at him, before smiling.

“μικρής κώλο.”

“σκατένιο γυαλιά.”

Johannes asked why Markus was staring so intently at Hanne and Levi. “Sembrano tesa.” he said. “Inoltre, sto cercando di capire che cosa linguaggio.”

“È Greca.” _Greek!_ Markus nodded.

“Hej, Bertholdt!” Reiner piped up suddenly. “Du har sexiga ben!”

“คุณบอกว่าทุกครั้งที่. ฉันรู้ว่ามันหมายถึงอะไร. ปิด”

“Sexiga ben.”

“ฉันเกลียดคุณ.”

Markus smiled. Despite everything, he liked this eclectic group of foreigners. He took another forkful of his dinner. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I don't know what I was thinking either. This is a disaster. I'm so sorry. I'll try to never do this again. Good grief. Sorry.
> 
> Edit, 21/08/15: Fixed some of the Japanese; Eren uses ore, not watashi.


	8. Status...??

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things make me sad.

“Guten tag, Markus!” Krista said, waving at him from the doorway of one of the computer rooms. Markus was still having some trouble figuring out which one was for which. “Come here!” 

Markus smiled. He liked Krista a lot. She was a sweet girl. “Sure.” he said, following her into the computer room. “What’s up?”

“Well, I was... um, when you... disappeared, I took over your job, doing the personnel records. I was wondering if you would like to help me with them? There’s not a lot of work doing, unlike in most postings, because we don’t get many people in and out, but still, it would give you something to do.” Krista said with a smile. 

Markus nodded. “Yeah, that sounds great!” He had been helping wherever he could, but he didn’t feel like he’d been very useful. He was pretty sure he’d cleaned every window in Weiss Schloss by now. He’d also helped Mechtilde set up training equipment, and let her try and teach him to use it, he’d helped Hanne with more experiments than he cared to think about, some of which he was pretty sure could be used in world subjugation plots. “What would I be doing?”

“Hm, I guess a good start would be going through the records. There’s missing information for quite a few of our agents.”

_Missing information._ It rung in Markus’ ears. “I’m not one of them, I suppose.”

Krista shook her head. “Nope. We have full records for you.” she hesitated. “Do you want to see them?”

“Not really.” Markus said honestly. 

Krista was surprised. “Why not?”

“I just...” Markus sighed. “It doesn’t matter much to me, I guess.”

Krista smiled. “Well, if you’re going to read everyone else’s, you’ll come across yours eventually.”

“I guess.”

Krista opened a small cabinet next to the computer, and entered a passcode to start it up. “What order would you like to go in?”

“Um... Alphabetical?”

“By last name?”

“Sure.”

“Great, that’s how they’re set up in the cabinets.”

... _Did I know that?_ He looked at the hard files. “A-3, B-2, D-1, H-2, L-1, P-1, R-2, S-1, Y-1. Those are the last names?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, first one.” He drew out the first one. “Ackerman, Mikasa.” He looked at Krista. “Is that Mechtilde?”

“Yep.” Krista said. “I could leave you with these, then?”

Markus blinked. “Um, can you?”

“Sure, this is your job. You’ve taken rather too much time off, Mr. Boveri.” 

Markus laughed. “Right, sorry.”

Krista grinned. “I’ll leave you to it.”

He looked at the file. “ _Mikasa Ackerman, code name; Mechtilde Ackerman._

_Ethnicity: Asian._

_Born: Hiroshima, Japan/Windsor ONT, Canada._

_Languages: English, Japanese (native), German._

_D/O st.: “Discovered titans at age 9, when visiting family friends in Ankara, Turkey. My mother and father were killed by titans when we got lost in the city, and I, Eren Yilmaz, and his father narrowly escaped with our lives. Eren and I joined the Scouts that year and were later stationed at Weiss Schloss together in Berlin.”_

_Partnered with: Arend Jaeger._

_Teaches Martial arts. Studying visual arts.”_ There wasn’t a lot else to the file. Records of her proficiency in combat, grade levels. The next file was Armin’s. 

_“Armin Arlert, code name; n/a._

_Ethnicity: Caucasian._

_Born: Dresden, Germany._

_Languages: German (native), English, French, Spanish, Italian, Dutch, Swahili”_

“Wow.” he said, blinking. “Calm down there, bud.” a quick glance over Armin’s grades just about made Markus’ head explode. So the kid was a genius. Amazing. He’d never been posted anywhere else. 

“Who’s next...” Markus’ hand froze. It was his. He grimaced at the file. _Boveri, Marco._ He wanted to skip it, but he had told Krista he’d read all of them. He drew the file out. He sighed. “Alright then. Who was this Marco guy?” 

_“Marco Boveri, code name; Markus Bodt.”_

He knew that.

_“Ethnicity: Caucasian.”_

Clearly.

_“Born: Vernazza, Italy.”_

Markus wasn’t even sure that he knew where that was.

_“D/O st.:”_

Markus made a mental note to ask Krista what that stood for.

_“Discovered titans during a trip to Rome during the summer. The population of Rome is under the general accepted threshold for Titan occurance, but during the summer, the amounts of tourists that show up in the city cause it to become extraordinarily crowded. Fortunately, when I saw them, no one was injured before agents appeared to take it down. I was there with my family.”_

So he had one. A family. Somewhere in Italy there were definitely family members missing him.  

_“A year later, when I was eleven, I started training, and was posted to Weiss Schloss.”_

That was all Marco had to say, apparently.

_“Partnered with, Jean Rousseau._

_In charge of personnel records. Studying psychology._

_Status: Deceased.”_

Well, that wasn’t true. He turned to the computer and selected it to change. 

_“Status: Alive.”_ he hesitated for a second. Not that it was wrong, but it wasn’t quite right either. _“Marco Boveri, status: alive.”_ he mused. He selected it, and changed it. _“Okayish.”_ That sounded ridiculous. _“????”_ that was worse. _“Distressed.”_ _Am I distressed. Yeah, I guess. “Maimed.”_ He leaned back and stared at the ceiling. 

_“Fine.”_

_“Not fine.”_

_“Confused.”_

_“Incapable of combat.”_

_“Freaking out.”_

_“Fine.”_

_“Impostering.”_

_“Gone.”_

_“Lying.”_

_“Dead.”_

_“Crying.”_

The screen got too blurry to see. He removed the entire sentence about state of being. He wiped his eyes dry and moved onto the next file. 

_“Richard Brown, code name; Reiner Braun.”_

 

* * *

 

“Oh, hey, there you are.” Johannes said, looking up with a smile. When he saw the look on Markus’ face, though, he frowned. “Hey, are you okay?”

Markus sighed. “I guess.” he said. “I was looking through the records.”

“Yeah, I heard.”

“I read mine.”

Johannes put his book down. “How’d that go?”

Markus sat on the edge of his bed. “Um...” he rolled over onto his stomach and groaned into his pillow.

“I take it then that no memories came back.”

Markus turned his head to look at Johannes. “I didn’t really expect them to.” he said. “I just... we don’t seem like we’re the same person at all. And I don’t know why.”

Johannes nodded. “Yeah, I guess you are different. But I can’t blame you. Those records are like, five years old. You’re older, you’ve changed. It’s not unexpected.”

Markus frowned. “But it feels like, I don’t know, something else. If I could remember, I would be different, or something...” he trailed off. “What was he like?” he asked Johannes. 

Johannes leaned back and thought about it. Whatever thoughts he was having about Marco made him smile, and Markus could feel his chest tighten. 

“During our first year here, quite a few people got nicknames. For example, I was Horse Face.”

“Arend still calls you that.”

“Yes. I hate him.” Johannes glowered. “But yours was really great.”

“Well, what was it?”

“Freckled Jesus.”

Markus stared at his roommate. “Freckled Jesus?”

“Yep.” 

“I don’t see how it fits.” he said.

“Well, you have freckles.” Johannes said.

“Obviously.”

“And Marco...” Johannes smiled wistfully. “Marco was like a fucking saint.”

Markus nodded. So Marco was nicer than he was. It wasn’t surprising, he supposed. He appreciated how Johannes had tried to soften that blow. 

“And since the nickname caught on,” Johannes continued. “I guess that it wasn’t just me who thought that.” he hesitated. “You may have noticed, I can be kind of a dick.”

Markus stammered denials while Johannes laughed. 

“Bro, it’s okay. I’m pretty sure when I was first posted here that Marco was told to keep me out of trouble and get along with me.”

“How did that go?”

Johannes laughed. “Well, we got along, at least.”

Markus grinned. And just for a brief second, a thought wormed its way into his mind that he really did know something about the person he had been. “I doubt he was just being nice to you because Hanne asked him to be.”

Johannes gaped at him. “No of course not.” he said. “If I thought that, I wouldn’t have-” he stopped himself. 

“Wouldn’t have what?”

“Been best friends with him.” Johannes babbled. His cheeks were very red, and Markus didn’t think that was what he had wanted to say.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, usually I would put things here, but I'm on vacation and leaving in like, four minutes.


	9. Aardvark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi, next time you have to censor something on your personal records, just write "censored" please.   
> I think the only new name is Hanne. That's Hange.

He figured out quickly how to skim. Reiner was from Edmonton, Alberta, he was in charge of security, he was partners with Bertholdt. 

Kriemhild was Ymir de Rosa, she was from somewhere in Norway that Markus had never heard of, she spoke quite a lot of languages, she was partners with Krista, and she was in charge of editing reports. He’d figured that the D/O st. was basically supposed to be a first hand report on how the agent in question had discovered titans. Kriemhild’s wasn’t in a language that Markus recognized. 

Hanne was Hange Zoë, from Greece, and Markus was astounded by the amount of languages she spoke. Greek, Japanese, German, Italian, English, French, Spanish, Dutch, Mandarin, and Portuguese. That was ten languages in all. He read Hanne’s report in detail. It was amazing. 

Bertholdt was Albert Hooper, from Abingdon, England. Markus made a mental note to ask him about his previous job in Thailand. It sounded interesting. 

Annie Leonard, code name; Anika Leonhardt? _Is this a mistake?_ Markus wondered. He was pretty sure that there was no Anika here. He flipped through the file, and knew immediately upon looking at her photo that she didn’t work here. Maybe he should have Krista send it somewhere else, wherever Annie Leonard was working now.

Sascha Braus was Sasha Petrov, from Moscow. Markus grinned. She was a drama student. That explained a lot. 

He went back again to read Levi’s file, because he was pretty sure he’d missed it. He and Mechtilde seemed to have the same surname for this mission, and it made things a little confusing. _Ackerman wasn’t that common a name, though._ he thought.

_“Levi Ackerman, code name; n/a._

_Ethnicity: Jewish_

_Born: Detroit, USA_

_Languages: English (native), Hebrew, German, Japanese, Greek._

_D/O st.:”_ Markus stared at the page. All that was there was what appeared to be a selfie of the captain with his middle finger up. Markus thought maybe he should start there with the missing data. 

 

* * *

 

Markus knocked on Levi’s office door.

“Don’t come in!” he heard Hanne shout. shouted.

“Dr. Zimmerman?”

“Yeah!” He could hear what sounded like her arguing with Levi. “Is this important?”

“Well, it’s not urgent.”

“Please leave then!” Hanne’s voice broke in the middle of her sentence. 

“Are you alright, Dr. Zimmerman?”

“Mngh, yes!” she groaned. “Go away!”

Markus stared at the door. “Uh, okay.” he left. 

He had no intention of walk in on his captain while he was having what sounded like pretty good sex with the mad genius who lived in the basement. Arend was walking by to the captain’s office, and Markus reached out to grab him by the shirt.

“Hey, what the-”

“I don’t think you want to go in there.” Markus told him.

“I had a report from Sascha to bring him, though.” Arend said, holding up the papers. Markus grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him down the hall. 

“He’s busy.” he assured Arend.

“Um, okay, well, I guess it’s not urgent.”

“Right.”

“Oh, that reminds me.” Arend stopped being pushed and turned to face Markus. “Mechtilde wanted you to go to the basement for remidial training. I’m not sure exactly what she has planned, but you should probably have Johannes wait in your room with ice packs and advil for later.”

Markus felt a chill go down his spine. “Um, can I opt out?”

Arend laughed. “No chance, she’ll hunt you down eventually.” 

Markus nodded grimly. “Basement, then?”

“Basement.”

 

* * *

 

“Are you alright?” Mechtilde asked.

“Actually I’m mostly left.” Markus smirked, though he could barely get the sentence out, as he was lying on the floor, developing new bruises, and having rather a lot of trouble catching his breath.

Mechtilde’s mouth fell open, and she gave a small smile. “Very funny.” she said. “You’re out of shape.”

“Gee, I never would have guessed.” Markus wheezed.

“No, seriously, are you alright?”

“Please help me up.” Markus said, weakly holding his arm up. Mechtilde violently hoisted him to his feet. 

“Mostly it seems like you know what you’re doing, you’re just still trying to do it with both arms and it’s not working.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Muscle memory.” Mechtilde explained. “You know, how in the Bourne Identity, he doesn’t remember anything but he can still fight?”

Markus stared at her. “Okay, one; I haven’t seen it. And two; I’m pretty sure you can’t use an action movie as actual science.”

Mechtilde shrugged. “Either way, you can still fight fairly well, you just need to get in better shape and re-adapt your style.”

Markus nodded. “So, you’re taking art, right?”

“Yeah.” Mechtilde nodded. “Sculpture is my favourite.”

Markus nodded, and pointed to the thing on her bench that had had his attention for a while now. “Is that an anteater... um,” he looked for the word. “Menorah?”

“It’s an aardvark.”

Markus blinked rapidly. “Okay.” he said. “Why do you have an aardvark menorah? Is that like... a school project?”

“No. I just put it there to let the paint dry.” she said. 

Markus nodded again, reluctant to keep asking questions. “Okay.”

 

* * *

 

Markus dragged his sore ass up the stairs to the third floor, his muscles screaming in protest, but there was no elevator in the building. 

“Hey.” he said, walking in and seeing Johannes at his desk, as per usual. 

Johannes turned and smiled. “Hey. Jaeger told me Mechtilde called you down to the basement for an assessment. How’re you feeling?”

Markus groaned. 

“I figured.” Johannes laughed. “Lie down, I’ll get you a heat pack.”

“Do you have those specifically for incidents in which Mechtilde almost kills your agents?”

“Yep.” Johannes said, heading out. Markus chuckled and closed his eyes. 

“Everyone here is really nice to be around.” he said to himself. “Maybe Hannah was right.” he sighed. He was sure it was a dangerous job, killing titans. Yet everyone still seemed very optimistic, despite what he understood to be a futile task. No matter how many titans they took down, more would eventually show up. 

Markus had learned a lot about who he had been, but he still didn’t feel like any of it fit. Like this was where he should be, like something was wrong. 

These troubling thoughts continued to loop in his head until Johannes came back.

“Two hot packs for Mechtilde’s new punching bag.”

Markus groaned at that. “I really hope not. She’s too hardcore.” He took the heat packs from Johannes and placed one on his left shoulder and rolled over to put another on his back. 

“She does have a hard core.” Johannes murmured. 

“Huh?”

“Her abs are spectacular.” 

Markus nodded. “They are impressive.” he admitted. He licked his lips. “So do you... like her?”

Johannes looked almost surprised. “I used to have such a massive crush on her. Not anymore, but when I first got here. I thought she was the most amazing thing on earth.” he laughed. “She turned me down cold immediately.” he switched to a scowl. “For Jaeger.”

Markus laughed. He felt strangely relieved. “Is that why you two don’t get along?”

“No, it’s because he’s an optimist, and I’m a realist.”

“Is realist another word for pessimism?” Markus asked, mostly joking. 

“He thinks it’s possible to rid the world of all titans, forever.”

“It’s not?”

“Not a chance.” Johannes didn’t hesitate. “I mean, sure that’d be great, but if it happens before I die, that science finds some way to destroy them all? I’ll eat my own dick.”

Markus snorted. “That’d certainly be impressive.” he said. “Is that what Dr. Zimmerman is doing in the basement all the time?” he desperately tried to keep his mind off of what he’d heard going down in Levi’s office.

“In the large scale, yeah. But in the smaller scale she’s trying to find out why the titans in Berlin are only cropping up in this area.”

Markus nodded. “Makes sense.” he shifted the hot pack to a more useful position. 

“You gonna survive?”

Markus smiled. “Yeah, I think so.” he yawned. “What time is it?”

“Um, about eight thirty.”

“Maybe I’ll just go to sleep then.”

“Don’t you have classes?” Johannes asked.

“It’s Friday.” Markus replied. “I only teach on Saturdays and Wednesdays.”

“So you’re just going to bed at eight thirty tonight, then?”

Markus sighed happily. “Yes.”

Johannes laughed reproachfully. “Well, you have fun with that. I’ll try and keep my maddened scribblings to a minimum.”

“Thanks.”

“Sweet dreams.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the aarvark menorah will crop up again.


	10. Sad Lesbians

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slaps you with the yumikuri.  
> also, Ymir using OLD ASS slang ftw.

“Hey, jazz girl!” Kriemhild whispered. 

Krista looked over from her monitor. She smiled at her girlfriend. “No one says that anymore.”

“Slang should never go out of style.”

“It does though. What do you want?”

“I want to go get something to drink!”

“I’m still transferring paperwork to Markus.”

“It’s important, Krista, please?”

Krista sighed. “Oh, okay.”

Kriemhild held her hand as they crossed the street, and she didn’t let it go until they were seated at the Kaffe. 

“Okay, so this something to drink is a lot more serious that I thought.” Krista smiled nervously. “What’s up?”

“Well,” Kriemhild started. “I, um. I guess there isn’t really a good way to say it. I’m being re-stationed.”

Krista’s eyes went wide. “What?” she gasped. “Wha- to where?”

“Norway.”

“But why... why you?”

“Krista, how many people in the organisation do you think fluently speak Bokmål?”

“Um...” Krista could feel her throat closing up. “Two?”

Kriemhild shook her head. “No.”

Krista put her head in her hands. 

“I don’t want to leave Weiss Schloss, dear. I really don’t want to leave you. But if I can help them better there, then I feel like I really should go.”

Krista sniffled, her eyes stinging. She felt like an ass. Kriemhild was right, but she was also breaking her heart. “Is this why you suggested I have Markus start working on the personnel records?”

Kriemhild nodded. “Yes. And you can take over the reports.” 

“You really think that Erwin is going to let that happen?”

“Yeah.” Kriemhild said.

Krista’s mouth dropped open. “You’ve already asked him.” she said. “He’s already aproved it.” Kriemhild nodded. 

“Hey, I’ll still be keeping an eye on Weiss Schloss.” Kriemhild smiled. “I know you can do this, Krista.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I know I can trust you to make good decisions.” Kriemhild’s eyes were so full of love that Krista was quite sure that she wasn’t seeing clearly. “It’s not even that different a job from what you’re doing now. Plus your German is better than mine, which is great for editing reports anyways. 

“But I’ll miss you so much.” Krista said, her tears viciously threatening to fall. 

“Hey, it’s not like I’m about to drop off the face of the earth, Krista! This is the twenty-first century, after all! You have Skype, right? I’ll only be a time-zone away.”

Krista nodded. “When do you have to leave?”

“After Christmas.” Kriemhild answered. Krista nodded again, quite literally swallowing the bad news. It hurt her throat. 

“You seem to have it all arranged.” she said. “Who am I going to partner with, if you’re gone?”

“Armin.”

“Armin is partnered with Johannes.”

“No, Johannes is partnered with Markus.” Kriemhild said. “You see how it all works out? Armin will be good to work with, he’s a swoony, right? I think. He’s smart, anyways.”

“I’d rather have you.”

“But you can’t, my slick chick.” Kriemhild looked like she might cry too. Krista wished desperately that Kriemhild had told her this in their own room instead of their favourite cafe. But then, perhaps souring their memories of their room would have been worse. 

“I’m going to miss you!” she sobbed.

“Hey, hey, Vorstin.” Kriemhild took Krista’s hand. Krista caught her breath at the nickname. She remembered when Kriemhild had used to mean it cruelly, teasing her for being squeamish, or too sweet, or wearing two different articles of clothing with different floral patterns. But now it was a term of endearment, and they knew it was meant lovingly. “We still have what, nine days?” Kriemhild’s smile wavered. She knew it wasn’t long. “Yeah, nine days until Christmas. Ten, really, since I won’t be leaving until the 26th.”

“Ten days.” Krista repeated.

“Yeah.”

 

* * *

 

Levi finally came through the dining room door. “Sorry I’m late, I-” Levi’s eyes went wide as he processed what was on the table. The corner of his mouth twitched, almost like had occurred to him to smile. He turned to Hanne. 

“Where... the _fuck_ did you find a menorah shaped like an aardvark?”

“Mechtilde _made_ it!” Hanne said excitedly. 

Mechtilde nodded. “Welding.”

Levi seemed to be at a loss for words. He looked around the dining room, and his eyes finally fell on Erwin. “You’re in my chair.”

“You get to sit at the head of the table today, my friend.” Erwin replied. 

“Is this because no one else speaks Hebrew well enough to manage the prayer?”

“Yes.”

Levi sighed, good-naturedly. “You guys certainly put a lot of work into this, didn’t you?”

“We don’t half-ass shit.” Hanne laughed. 

“I really don’t think I can remember that entire prayer.” Hanne passed him her phone to read it off of. “Wow. You do not half-ass shit.” he looked like he was very close to smiling, or perhaps tearing up. He did neither, but instead began reading the prayer. 

“ הגדול על נסיך ועל נפלאותיך ועל ישועותיך.”

he finished. “You can light the first candle, now.” Krista leaned over and lit it. Markus thought she had been looking a little unwell. Markus made a mental note to ask her about it later. 

“Who got the doughnuts?” Levi asked.

“Sascha _made_ them!” Kord enthused. “They’re amazing!” 

Everyone at the table was technically an adult, however, they were having doughnuts for dinner, so absolutely no one was an adult. 

“So,” Kord spoke up, after everyone had had their fill of doughnuts. “How do you play this game?” he asked, passing Levi the dreidel. 

“It’s kind of like poker.” Levi said. “But easier.”

Johannes snorted for a second. 

“What’s so funny, Kirschtein?” Levi asked.

“Um...” Johannes seemed to be debating whether to speak his mind, which made Markus very curious as to what it could be. “Strip dreidel.” The table burst out laughing at the image. Levi stared intently at Hanne.

“Ας παίξουμε πόκερ της δριδελ.”

“Με τα παιδιά??” she asked, seeming startled. 

“Όχι. Αργότερα.” Levi cleared his throat and twirled the dreidel between his fingers. 

Levi showed them how to play the game, and it was surprisingly simple. Erwin muttered something about how they probably shouldn’t be teaching the kids to gamble, but Hanne calmed him down by informing him that they’d be playing with chocolate chips. By the end of the evening, no one had any chocolate chips, except for Mechtilde and Levi, who had between the two of them, somehow collected them all.

“Isn’t this supposed to be a game of chance?” Armin muttered. “How did you two do that?” 

“Ackerskillz.” Eren muttered, sounding equally proud and frustrated. 

“I’ll share the chocolate with you guys.” Mechtilde said with a small smile. 

“I don’t want your pity chocolate.” Johannes pouted. Mechtilde rolled her eyes and started handing out chocolate chips to the other agents. Of course, Johannes wasn’t quite happy with this arrangement either, since now he was the only agent without any chocolate chips. 

“Hey, Levi!” Hanne nudged Levi in the ribs. “Are you gonna share your chocolate chips?”

“Hell no, these are mine.” Levi declared, shoving the entire pile of chocolate chips into his mouth. Markus was amazed that they all fit. He looked kind of like a chipmunk. A happy, if not bitchy, chipmunk. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone please draw me a picture of Levi with his mouth stuffed full of chocolate chips I will love you forever.


	11. Panic! at the Neue Kirche

Markus bit his lip, staring at his teaching notes. He’d been getting quite busy with the records, considering there were only fourteen agents there. He was considering quitting his teaching job. Levi had put him back on the payroll, apparently only because: “Erwin said to.” and it payed really quite well. More than enough considering he was living in their building. “Who funds this program?” he asked Jean. Jean was, for once, not spending his free time drawing, since Markus was using the desk. He was reading one of the many books they kept on the bottom bunk. 

“Some Dutch billionaire.” he said. 

“I’m thinking of quitting my teaching job.”

“Is it because you’ve realised that you’re actually younger than your students?”

“No, I’m just really busy.” Markus rubbed the bridge. “The semester is nearly over... I figure after that.”

Johannes nodded. “I say go for it. You’ll have more time for training.”

“Not that combat is exactly an option.” Markus shrugged.

“Yeah, but you haven’t done much with the RRs, have you?”

“Not yet, no.” Markus leaned back in his chair. “What are you reading?”

“ _Harry Potter_.”

Markus bit his lip, debating whether or not to admit the wretched truth. “I haven’t read it.”

There was a horrified silence. “Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Markus.” Johannes leaned over the edge of the bed. “Markus, _Harry Potter_ is not just a book. It’s a fucking culture. It’s a way of life. Like breathing.”

“So I’ve heard.” Markus nodded. 

“You don’t mean like, you haven’t read it in the last two years, but you may have read it before then and you just don’t remember?”

Markus was dubious. “Well, I don’t know. I remembered Taylor Swift when I woke up, so I think I probably haven’t ever read it.”

Johannes looked truly appalled. 

There was a knock at the door.

“Hey, Johannes!” Sascha shouted. “You in there?”

“Yeah, come in.”

Sascha shoved the door open. “I believe you were wanting a rematch?” 

That diverted Johannes’ attention. “Hell yeah I do!”

“Good, because I want to kick your ass at it again!”

Johannes glared at her, and threw down his book. “Not if I kick yours first!” he shouted. 

 

* * *

 

 

“Yeah!” Sascha and Kord leapt from the couch and hi-fived each other. 

“OWNED!” Sascha shouted. Johannes dramatically draped an arm over his face. 

“I can’t believe it!” he said. “How are you so good at this game?”

Sasha smiled, tossing her hair behind her shoulder. “Practice makes perfect, Johannes, dear.”

“Yeah, Russians invented this game!” Kord crowed. Mechtilde looked up.

“No, they didn’t.” she said. “Mario Kart is Japanese.” 

Suddenly, an alarm went off, wailing loudly. Red lights blazed on the walls, flashing on and off. 

“Holy shit!” Markus shouted, startled. 

“Oh, that looks serious.” Mechtilde dropped her book and dashed out the door. 

“Come on!” Johannes shouted. Everyone ran after him.

“Where are we going?” Markus yelled.

“The briefing room!” Johannes shouted over his shoulder.

They all raced up the stairs behind Johannes and burst into the briefing room less than a minute later. Armin and Krista were already there, putting a plan together. 

“Where is it?” Mechtilde asked curtly. 

“At the Neue Kirche.” Armin replied. “And there’s a lot of them.”

“Holy shit, that’s just around the corner!” Kord exclaimed.

“How many?” Johannes asked.

“Between nine and thirteen.” Armin said, uncertain. “Approximately, anyhow.”

“Plan?” Johannes asked.

“We’ll need an RR. Small. RR-dansen, I think.” Armin said. “And a small elite team., good with the gear. Mechtilde, the Captain, Johannes, and Bertholdt.”

“Armin, why do you never pair us with our actual partners?” Sascha queried.

“Doesn’t always work.” Armin didn’t seem to be doing complete sentences that day. “Johannes, you pair up with Bertholdt, Mechtilde with Levi.” 

“Got it.” 

“I want RR-dansen outside of the church keeping the titans out, and the four of you- where are the other two? Someone get them- Markus, get Bertholdt and Levi in here! No, wait, I want you with Kriemhild and Krista in RR-dansen.”

“Really?” Markus asked. “I don’t know how to pilot it.

“Yeah, just observing for future missions.” Armin told him. “Kord, go get Bertholdt and Levi and Kriemhild. Where is Arend, he’s usually the first one in here!”

“He’s getting groceries.” Mechtilde said. 

Armin groaned. “Fine. If he wants to miss this one, he can miss this one.”

“I don’t think he wants to miss this one.” Johannes said.

“No, he never does.” Armin muttered. “But really, he’s best at using RR-schurk, and if we’re using RR-dansen, then it doesn’t really matter. Just keep him out of danger.”

“Done.” Mechtilde said. 

“Not you.”

Mechtilde glared at him.

“I want you for this mission. Have Dr. Zimmerman tie him up in the basement or something.”

“Okay.”

“That was a joke, Mechtilde.” Armin clarified, looking genuinely concerned. “That was sarcasm, oh my God.” he sighed. “Kriemhild, Krista, Markus, can you go start up the RR-dansen?”

“Sure thing. Let’s split.” 

 

* * *

 

One of the titans had grabbed Johannes by the leg. 

“Johannes!” Markus shouted. 

Johannes sliced its fingers off and jumped away. He quickly dispatched of the monster. Kriemhild buzzed the com unit. 

“Johannes, you okay?”

_“I’ve hurt my ankle, but yeah, I’m okay.”_ Markus shoot with relief. 

“Alright.” Krista said. “They’re thinning out, but take it easy if you can. If you let any slip by, it’s not a problem. Bertholdt, stay sharp, alright.”

_“Yes, ma’am.”_ Bertholdt replied. Kriemhild switched off the com unit. 

“So, you carry a torch for Johannes, then?” she asked Markus with a smirk.

“I... I don’t know what that means.”

“It’s pretty obvious you’re stuck on him. I can sort of see why. He’s hard boiled. Not my type at all, though.” Kriemhild stated. Krista laughed, perhaps a bit sadly. Markus was confused.

“I don’t understand most of what you’re saying to me.” Markus blinked. “I mean, I sort of do. Some of it. I don’t have a crush on Johannes.”

“Yeah okay, so you’re full of shit, that’s fine.” Kriemhild muttered. “They’re doing pretty well, I don’t think we’re going to get any action.”

“Is that an innuendo?” Krista asked, looking nearly angry. 

“Haha, yeah it is.”

“Stop.” Krista glowered.

“Krista, are you okay?” Markus asked. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Krista muttered. Kriemhild looked uncomfortable. The com unit buzzed. 

“Yeah?” Kriemhild asked after switching it back on.

_“How are we doing?”_ Levi asked. 

“Only two left.” Krista informed him, checking the scanner. 

_“None have gotten in the church?”_

“No, sir.”

_“Good. Let’s keep it up.”_

_“Ah, there are the last two.”_ Mechtilde spoke up.

Markus had to admit that the titans were a lot less terrifying when observed from the relative safety of the RR. They were still incredibly creepy. 

Then Johannes tried to go after one of the incoming titans. He’d been hanging from his 3DMG, and hadn’t put any pressure on his ankle. He landed hard on the ground and immediately fell on his face, a plethora of French cuss words coming over the com unit.

“Johannes!” Markus shouted again. 

The titan stooped, reaching a disgusting hand to Jean’s injured form. Its smile was sickening. So Mechtilde dropped that motherfucker like the lil’ bitch it was. Levi got the other one. Everyone was much relieved. Mostly Johannes. Thanks, Mechtilde.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my God what the fuck was that ending, I'm so disappointed in myself, I apologise.  
> Mikasa, I'm also disappointed in you, not getting that Star Trek reference. Have you not seen Star Trek? There are just too many pop culture failures in this chapter.


	12. I'm Going to Take My Shirt Off Because I Know You're Not Straight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gay

“Johannes?” Markus asked. “There are three guys in the room next door. Right?”

“Yeah.” Johannes muttered, not looking up from his sketchbook. He was still sulking over his sprained ankle.

“But you’re here alone.”

“Um... yeah.”

“Why didn’t one of them move in here?”

Johannes looked over from where he was sitting on his bunk.

“I guess Armin probably should have moved in here after our parters... um.” Johannes paused. 

“Armin’s partner died too?”

“Too?” Markus shrugged. “Yeah, Anika. Or, Annie, I think it actually was. She was American.” Johannes sighed. “Armin and I partnered up after that, and he’s pretty good to work with, but, still.”

Markus looked at the floor. He’d rather be working with Marco. Who was gone. 

“But anyways.” Johannes continued. “he didn’t really want to move rooms, and I... wanted to be alone.”

Markus looked at the book bunk.

_He kept all of his textbooks out_. he noted. _Why?_

“What are you thinking about?” Johannes asked. 

“Um, I don’t know. Stuff.”

“Stuff?” 

“Yeah.” Johannes grunted.

Markus was suddenly hit with a pillow.

“What the heck?!” he sat up and looked at Johannes. He was lying down now, so Markus couldn’t see his face, but he could sense the shit-eating grin. He hurled the pillow back at the opposite bunk, but it fell short. Johannes was laughing.

“You jerk!” Markus exclaimed. He jumped up and grabbed the pillow off the floor. But before he could smash Johannes in the face with it, he was bashed over the head with another pillow. He looked up, and was promptly struck in the face. Johannes cackled at Markus’ stunned expression. He was laughing so hard it gave Markus the perfect opportunity to smack him across the side of the head, delightfully messing up his hair. Johannes beamed at Markus and leapt down the ladder, all the while being beaten within an inch of his life by Markus’ pillow. 

As soon as Johannes had hobbled down the ladder, he beat Markus to the ground mercilessly and sat on his legs, pinning his arm above his head. 

“You’ll never take me alive!!” Markus yelled.

“Is that so?” Johannes smiled murderously. He released Markus’ arm to focus on tickling him. 

Markus burst out in hysterical laughter. “Oh my God, oh my God, Johannes, no! No! I surrender! I surrender! Ah!!” his sides hurt from laughing and he couldn’t breathe. “Stop!!”

“Alright, alright.” Johannes said, pulling back. Markus took a moment to catch his breath.

“Fool!” he shouted, and flipped Johannes onto his back.

“No, I’m not ticklish, I’m not-” Johannes shrieked in laughter. “Mon Dieu!” Johannes grabbed Markus’ wrist, effectively stopping the tickles. He flipped him back over. “Insolent Italian!” he started tickling Markus again.

“Oh, cruel world!” Markus choked out between guffaws. “Oh, what do you want from me?!”

Johannes paused. “Hmm...” he thought about it. “Let me draw you.”

“D-draw me?” Markus panted. He was confused. He also wasn’t sure if Johannes was red from embarrassment or exertion. 

“Yeah.” Johannes said. “Please.”

“Without my shirt on?” _What??? Where did I get that idea?? He didn’t say anything like that! Why the hell did I ask that?? I would way rather keep my shirt on! Say no!!!_

“Okay!” Johannes blurted. “Um, yeah, sure. Sure. Yeah. Yeah.”

_What._ “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Shut up.”

“Right now?”

Johannes looked like his face was going to explode. “Okay.” he got off of Markus. “Really?”

“Yeah, why not?” _You know why not!! Stop talking! Your scars are so bad, stop this!_

“Okay.” Johannes looked like he might fall over any second, and it wasn’t because of his ankle. “Um... uh... let me find my good sketchbook. “Mon Dieu, mon Dieu, Markus torse nu, ouah. Incroyable! Òu est mon taille-crayon? Hang on, I can’t find my pencil sharpener!”

“Alright.” _This is not alright!!_ “Markus sat on the edge of his bed. _Why would you do this?!?_ He asked himself. _Because it’s Jean. I trust him._ He countered to himself. _What are you talking about, you barely know him, you met him like, less than a month ago! Don’t take your shirt off!_ He took his shirt off. 

“Found my-” Johannes looked up at Markus and dropped his pencil sharpener. “Sacré bleu. Ouah. Beau, beau. Sympa. Il est magnifique.”

Markus could feel that his cheeks were bright red. Johannes seemed to have forgotten that Markus knew French. He decided not to remind him. He leaned over on his bed. 

“Draw me like one of your French girls!”

Johannes laughed awkwardly. “Haha, I’ve never had a girlfriend.”

“Boyfriend?”

“You’re looking at a pathetic virgin.”

Markus tried to look surprised. “Well, there goes your reputation as the perfect Parisian.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“How do you want me to sit?”

“Uh...” Johannes was still bright red. He licked his lips. Markus thought that he should probably feel weirder about this, but it just made him feel sort of happy. “What? Oh, right, um... Just, however, like that, sit up, I guess, yeah, that’s good. You look good.”

“Johannes, you seem flustered.” Markus teased. Johannes hid his face with his sketchbook, so Markus could only see his eyes. He could soon hear him scratching away with his pencil. After a while of silence, Markus asked Johannes if he was done. 

“Please stay still.” was Johannes’ only answer. 

Markus was getting cold, and he was having regrets. 

“Okay, I’m done the rough stuff.”

“Can I see?”

Johannes studied his work and grimaced. “No.” he declared. “I have to get my eraser.”

Markus groaned. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“It’s _cold_.”

“You’re the one who offered to pose shirtless.” Johannes pointed out, busily erasing.

“Did you make a mistake?”

“Rough work.” Johannes said, glowering in fervent concentration. “Okay, cool. Where’s my charcoal?”

“Is that it next to your leg?”

“Yes, thank you.” Johann squinted at his drawing.

“Do you need glasses?”

“No, Markus. Shush.”

Markus sighed. “Next time we should put some music on beforehand.”

Johannes finally looked up. “Next time?”

“Yeah.”

Johannes grinned. And Markus loved that dorky grin. 

_Oh no._

Quite a few minutes later, Johannes declared that he was finished.

“Can I see?” Markus asked.

“Of course.” Markus stood and stretched. He crossed the room to see the drawing. It hit his eyes like an unforeseen hug. 

“Woah.” 

It was good. Incredibly good. Detailed, and leaving no flaw out. And amazingly, even though Markus could see perfectly clearly the lack of a right arm, somehow it didn’t look unnatural, or ugly. He could see the pattern of the scars, deep jagged lines that hadn’t healed attractively, now drawn lovingly in soft charcoal. 

“I don’t really look like that, do I?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” Johannes laughed. “Your hair is a mess.” Markus’ eyes darted to the drawing’s face. Its hair was a mess, and it looked bored.

“You’re an amazing artist.”

“Thank you, it’s not easy.” Johannes quipped.

“You really think I look like that?” Markus still couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He laughed awkwardly. “I think you made me look a little better than I really do.”

“Actually I kinda fucked up on your leg.” Johannes confessed. “It really shouldn’t be bending that way. You look way better than this drawing.”

Markus tore his eyes from the drawing to look at Johannes. He was being serious. He meant it. Markus’ pulse accelerated. 

“Well, I love it.” he said. _Mio Dio, stop before you fuck it up so bad you die. Again._ “I think it more than does me justice.” 

“I don’t know, you’re pretty...” Johannes cleared his throat.

“Pretty what?” Markus asked, not sure what he wanted Johannes to say.

“I dunno, good looking.”

“You think?” Markus smiled.

Johannes nodded, flaming red. “Or whatever.”

“You keep doing that.”

“What?”

“Complimenting me and then shrugging it off. Why?” Markus asked.

“B-because, I don’t know.”

Markus looked at him.

“I might know.”

“Please tell me.”

Johannes stared into Markus’ eyes. He looked terrified. “Okay.” he whispered. “Okay. I like you.” he said. His voice began to grow in volume, emotion bleeding from every sentence. “I’ve liked you for years. I haven’t dated anyone in like three years because of you. I never got over your supposed death, and I missed you so much that some days all I wanted to do was join you! Is that what you wanted to hear? Are you happy?!” 

Markus stared at him. “Well... No. I guess not. I mean, sort of. That sounds terrible. But I am glad you like me.” he smiled awkwardly at Johannes, who was bright red. “Because, I don’t think you’ve actually said it. You talk about Marco a lot, but... since I got here, it feels more like you’ve been staring at a ghost, and... I don’t want to be a ghost.”

Johannes nodded. “Well. What do you want to be?”

_A wholly sane person with a life before being sixteen, but that’s not romantic._ “Your date to the Christmas party.”

“Are we supposed to have dates to that?” Johannes looked alarmed.

“I don’t see why not.” Markus said. 

“Well, I’d rather take you on a date where it’s less likely that Armin will take pictures of us holding hands.” Johannes pointed out.

“You want to hold hands?” Markus gushed.

“Um, after Christmas, then? Um, the Einstein Kaffe is nice.” Johannes suggested.

“Sounds wonderful.” 

Markus and Johannes beamed with joy at each other for a while, not saying anything, just feeling superbly happy, until they burst into giggles.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My motivation wanes. I finished writing all of it, so I think I'm going to move to posting them more often now. I'll post another chapter on Monday.


	13. The Great French/Russian Bake-Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter may be known as the Springles chapter. If you don't ship Connie and Sasha, you may be about to.

“...hold its nose until it turns blue and shoot it with a blue elephant gun.”

Markus cackled. “That’s the worst joke I’ve ever heard!”

Johannes shrugged, grinning. “I know, but you laughed!”

There was a knock at the door.

“Yeah?” Johannes shouted.

Kord poked his bald head into the room. “Uh, hey.” he said. “Do you guys know what the legal age of marriage is in Russia?”

Markus and Johannes stared at him. 

“Um, no, Kord. No I don’t know that.” Johannes said awkwardly. “Why do you want to know that?”

Kord blushed. “Oh, no reason. Thanks anyways, bye!” he was almost out the door when it clicked for Markus.

“Oh my God!” he jumped up and chased Kord to grab him by the arm. “Oh my God, are you serious?!” he dragged him back into the room.

Kord’s face was bright red.

“What? I don’t get it?” Johannes said.

“Are you serious?!” Markus repeated. “Really?”

“I-I’d rather not talk about it.” Kord stammered. 

“If you didn’t want to talk about it, you just would have googled it in peace.” Markus said. “You’re actually serious!”

“I’m still really confused.” Johannes said. “What’s he serious about?”

Markus smiled at Kord encouragingly, and Kord eventually sighed, ready to admit it fully. “I want to propose to Sascha.”

Markus was so excited for them that he felt like hugging Kord. He didn’t, but looked at Johannes to see how excited he was. Johannes’ mouth was hanging open.

“You and Sascha are dating?”

Markus and Kord stared at him, appalled. 

“How...” Markus stuttered. “How did you miss that? I’ve been here for less than a month, and I haven’t missed that.”

“We made out at the Christmas party last year!” Kord exclaimed. 

Now Johannes was blushing. “I thought you were just both drunk.”

Kord rubbed the bridge of his nose. “No, we’re dating.”

“And you want to get engaged?” Johannes asked.

“Yeah.” 

“You guys are like, eighteen, though!”

“Well, yeah, I mean, I don’t want to get married right away, or even soon, but, I don’t know, I dunno. Maybe it’s stupid.”

“It’s not!” Markus cried. “It’s really sweet!”

Kord smiled. “You think?”

“Yeah!” Markus exclaimed. “Do you have a plan for how you’re going to propose to her?”

“I thought maybe at the Christmas party, but if she says no,” Kord turned pale at the thought. “Well, that would suck in front of everyone.”

“That would indeed suck.” Johannes nodded, still reeling with surprise.

“So I think maybe I should ask her when we’re alone.”

“That sounds like a good idea.” Markus nodded.

“But I don’t know where to take her.”

It was Kord’s turn to be stared at incredulously. 

“Dude.” Johannes began. “You know where you are, right?”

“Um... your room?”

“Think broader.”

“Weiss Schloss?”

“Berlin!” Johannes shouted. “You’re in Berlin! At Christmas! When was the last time you went outside? It’s sparkly, and snowing and gorgeous and beautiful and shit!”

Kord’s mouth dropped open and scant seconds later he was hugging Johannes gratefully. “BRILLIANT!” 

“GET OFF!” Johannes shouted. “Connard!”

 

* * *

 

“I CHALLENGE YOU, JOHANNES KIRSCHTEIN, TO A BAKE-OFF!” Sascha declared loudly. 

“Braus, sit the fuck down.” Levi said. Sasha did not stand down from her chair. 

“A bake-off?” Johannes asked.

“A Christmas bake-off!”

Johannes considered. He smirked. “Absolutely.”

“Can I film it?” Armin asked.

“Sure!” Sascha exclaimed. 

“Try not to get an eye poked out.” Kriemhild suggested. 

“You do know I’m French, right? I’m good at desserts.” Johannes smirked. 

Sascha smirked back. “You’re goin’ down, Kirschtein!” 

 

* * *

 

Sascha decided to make bobaiki, kutya, and figgy pudding. Johannes made mini eclairs, decorated gingerbread men, and vanilla-bean cookies. Arend’s services had been commandeered to run errands for the two of them. 

“Okay, I need whole vanilla beans and icing sugar, and food colouring.” Johannes listed off. “I’m pretty sure we have everything else.”

“How many vanilla beans do you need?” Arend asked.

“Six at most.”

“I need wheatberries and poppy seeds.” Sascha instructed.

“Wheatberries?” Arend exclaimed.

“Yeah. And get some more honey, while you’re at it.”

“What are wheatberries?”

“They’re a kind of grain. Go, go!”

 

* * *

 

It did not take long for the Weiss Schloss kitchen to become a maelstrom of chaos. Shouting, screaming, enthusiasm. It was like Hell’s kitchen, but with more festivity. 

“CAPTAIN, WHY ARE YOU IN THE KITCHEN?!” Sascha shouted. 

“I’m making chocolates, it’s too late to go out and get them. Chill.”

“Ooh,” Armin cried. “Are those the fancy ones?”

“Yes, they’re for Hanne. Touch them and I cut your fucking arm off.”

“O-kay...” Armin backed up a bit. “Johannes, how are your gingerbread cookies coming?”

Johannes crouched to look at the cookies. “Pretty good.” he said. “They’re the soft kind.”

“Nice.” Armin nodded emphatically. “The Uptown Funk of the cookie world.”

Johannes stared at Armin. “Yeah, that.” he turned to Markus. “What is Uptown Funk?”

Markus blinked. “You _need_ to listen to new music.”

“Is it a pop song?”

“It’s Mark Ronson.”

“Oh yeah.” Johannes nodded. “Yeah.”

Markus narrowed his eyes. “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

“No. Can you get the cookies out of the oven?”

 

* * *

 

Sascha and Johannes had determined that the rest of the residents would judge the outcome of the Bake-Off, so currently everyone was sitting around the table, and looking confusedly at the bobaiki and kutya.

“S-Sascha?” Kord stammered. “I don’t think this is a dessert, I think it’s trail mix with honey in it.” 

Markus could see Johannes smirking out of the corner of his eye.

“Well, I still have the figgy pudding.”

Bertholdt, Kord and Erwin lit up like the Christmas tree that Arend and Kriemhild had been trying to set up in the basement. A little too enthusiastically, though less in need of fire extinguishers. 

“She’s pandering to the Englishmen with a sense of holiday nostalgia!” Johannes hissed to Markus. Markus tried not to laugh.

 

* * *

 

Johannes won the contest by a landslide. His cookies were just so beautifully iced. God bless the French. 

 

* * *

 

Connie shivered. The snow was beautiful, but he wasn’t much of a fan. 

“It’s so cold!” he chattered.

“It’s not that bad.” Sasha disagreed.

“Well, maybe it’s not as cold as Russia, then.”

“Where are we going?” Sasha asked, and she reached down to hold Connie’s hand. His heart fluttered.

“The lock bridge.” he told her.

“That’s where you took me for our first date!” Sasha exclaimed. She laughed. “I remember you were wearing a hoodie, because your ears were blushing.”

“If I was wearing a hoodie, how could you tell my ears were blushing?” Connie asked defensively. 

“Because the rest of you was, too.” she leaned over and kissed his nose. “But I don’t know how romantic it’ll be when you’re freezing your English nuts off.”

Connie smiled. Why was he so worried? Sasha loved him. He loved Sasha. There was no reason for him to be nervous. It didn’t have to be perfect, it just had to be real. That was enough.

_Although, I wouldn’t mind if it was perfect._ Connie thought.

The lock bridge was lovely, all the shining metal glittered in the fairy lights along the riverbank. Sasha glittered, too, Connie thought. 

“I didn’t expect it to be so busy.” Connie said, nervously eyeing the passing crowds. “I thought everyone would be doing some last-minute Christmas shopping.”

“Ooh, does that mean you’re all done yours?”

“Nearly.” Connie said. “It depends on if you want it.” 

Sasha looked intrigued. “What does that mean?”

“Okay, I got you two things, and I think you’re going to love one of them, but I think, or I hope, you’re really, _really_ going to love the other one.”

“Okay, you’ve got me, I’m dying of curiosity.”

Connie grinned. “Well, I didn’t want to give it to you in front of everyone, so um, I thought this might work.”

“Oh my God, what is it?!” Sasha cried, laughing. “Stop stalling!”

“Okay, okay!” Connie reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring box. “Aleksandra Irina Petrov.” Connie began, bending onto one knee. Sasha’s hands flew to her mouth, her eyes welling up with tears. “Ты выйдешь за меня?” He was sure he’d butchered the words, but he could tell he’d got the meaning across perfectly.

As if to quell any doubt, Sasha answered him in English. 

“Yes!”

Kord burst into tears. He tried to cover it up with a lopsided grin. “Would you have said yes if I’d voted for Johannes in the Bake-Off?”

Sasha laughed, and threw her arms around him. “Of course, you dork.”

Kord grinned, and hugged her back. “D-do you want the ring?”

“Oh!” Sasha shouted, and pulled back. “Yes, please!” she pulled her mitten off, and Kord slid the ring on, nearly dropping it, since he wasn’t looking at her hands but at her face. She looked as happy as he felt. She looked up from the ring, locking eyes with him, and pulling him into what he thought must be the most wonderful kiss they’d ever had.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love them a lot ok? Okay.


	14. Christmas at Weiss Schloss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Spring is finally thawing stuff up, let's read about Christmas! brilliant idea.

Jean felt himself slowly waking up. He groaned and curled into the warmth of the blankets.

“Johannes!” Markus shouted at him. Jean opened one eye blearily. 

“Ughh?”

“It’s Christmas!”

Jean smiled. Trust Markus to be as excited as any little kid, come Christmas day. “Nice.”

“Get up!” Markus shouted. “It’s Christmas!”

“I knoww.” Jean said. “Just... five, five more minutes...”

“Christmas!” Markus shouted, throwing a pillow at Jean’s face.

“Alright, alright! Geez...” Jean stretched his arms, making some satisfying popping noises, and tumbled clumsily out of his top bunk. “I assume breakfast thing people fooding?”

“You’re very coherent in the morning.” Markus laughed.

“It got the point across. Shut up.” Jean rubbed his eyes and yawned. “Gonna go shower.”

“Okay!”

When Jean got out of the shower, Markus was excitedly sitting on his bunk, with a clumsily wrapped present balanced precariously on his knee. 

“What’s that?” Jean asked, though he of course knew perfectly well what it was. 

“Your Christmas present, obviously.”

“Obviously.” Jean agreed. “Well, I’d better get yours, then.” While he went to do that, his mind reeled and his heart pounded. He hadn’t expected Markus to get him a gift. He was truly surprised. He had to admit to himself that he was having a hard time differentiating between Markus and Marco. They were similar in so many little ways, how they did their hair, their smile, favourite foods, sleeping patterns, etc. But so different in many important ways. He never knew whether he should give up hope of reconciling the two into one person, or admit that Markus was someone entirely different from the happy-go-lucky Italian boy, and treat him that way. 

It was incredibly hard to chose the latter when Markus was sitting on the bed with that bright, purely Marco smile, that made Jean feel almost like no time had passed at all.

“Well, who should open their present first?” he asked, shoving down the conflicting emotions, tightening the towel around his waist and sitting down.

“You go, I can’t wait!” Markus grinned, shoving the present at Jean. 

“Alright, alright, chill!” Jean chided, though in truth, he didn’t want Markus to chill at all. He tore into the package and stared in disbelief at the contents. “Where... where did you find this??”

Markus ran his hand through his hair. “The internet, and it was _not_ easy. I was really worried it wouldn’t get here in time.”

Jean pulled on the t-shirt immediately. “This is the artwork for Dure Limite, isn’t it?”

“My guess is yes, since it says Dure Limite on the shirt.”

Jean rolled his eyes sarcastically at him. “Well,” he said, spreading his arms out. “How do I look?”

“Fantastique.”

“Merci.” Jean smiled broadly. “I love it a lot. So much. Seriously. Wow, okay. Open yours!”

Markus laughed. “It’s wrapped way better than mine.”

“I _am_ an art student.”

“True.” Markus balled up the wrapping and tossed it over his shoulder. He stared at the book in his lap for a second and laughed. “ _Harry Potter e la Pietra Filosofale,_ dalla scrittrice J. K. Rowling _.”_ he looked up at Johannes. “You were serious!”

“Nobody fucks around about Harry Potter.” Johannes said seriously. “And it’s pronounced like “rolling”.”

“Ah, thank you.” Markus smiled. “I like the cover.” he turned it over to read the back. “Harry Potter pensa di essere un ragazzo normale- Fino a quando non vien... wow, where did you find it in Italian?”

“It’s a _classic,_ Markus, it wasn’t that hard.”

Markus pointed to the picture on the back. “Is this Silente?”

“Who?” Jean got up to look. “No, that’s Dumbledore.”

Markus cracked open the book. “It says his name is Silente.”

“No, that’s fucking Dumbledore.” Jean grumbled. 

“It’s probably just a translation thing.” 

“Silente means something totally different, Markus.” Jean pouted. He stood up. “We’ll have to ask an expert.”

“We have a Harry Potter expert at Weiss Schloss?”

“Not exactly, but we have an Englishman in the next room over and that is close enough!” Jean flew out the door, wholly intent on waking Kord and asking him. The truth about this Harry Potter character was the only thing on his mind. He banged on the door. “Kord!” 

There was a moderate amount of grumbling before Kord opened the door. 

“Johannes? It’s... early.”

“The old man in Harry Potter. The headmaster.” Jean stated. “His name is Dumbledore, right?”

“Dumbledore?” Kord murmured. “Yeah, his name is Dumbledore. Why are you asking?”

“Ha!” Jean whirled around to confront Markus. “I told you!”

“I wasn’t disagreeing.” Markus said.

“Johannes, you aren’t wearing any pants.” Kord said. Jean looked down. He hadn’t put on any pants after his shower. He’d just had a towel wrapped around his waist. It had fallen off.

“Ah.” he said. “Well... Merry Christmas.”

“Mm, yeah, Merry Christmas.” Kord said.

“I’m just... going to put my pants on... and uh... make breakfast.”

“Okay, you do that.” Kord closed the door. Markus burst into hysterical laughter. 

 

* * *

 

“Armin, put down that camera and help me carry these!” Arend shouted later that evening.

“Ask Mechtilde! I’m helping Sascha and Kord with something!” Armin shouted back. 

“UUUUGGghHhhn!” Arend said.

“Armin?” Markus asked. “What are you doing with Sascha and Kord, exactly?”

“...Nothing worth mention.” Armin smiled awkwardly, and his eyelid twitched. He let out a nervous laugh and ran off. 

“Well that’s not at all suspicious.”

 

“Oh, Kriemhild, dance with me!” Krista chimed. 

“No chance, I’m a dead hoofer.”

“Please?”

Kriemhild couldn’t resist Krista’s earnest smile, so she wrapped her arms around the small girl. “Fine. But I’m warning you, I really am terrible!” They swayed back and forth to the music, and Kriemhild leaned down to kiss her sweet-smelling hair.

“I wish you weren’t leaving tomorrow.” Krista whispered, and Kriemhild could feel her heart shatter.

“Me too, Vorstin. Me too.”

 

Hanne plopped down on the couch next to Levi, setting a present in his lap. He stared at it for a minute. “It’s not for Christmas.” Hanne said.

“What’s it for?”

Hanne smirked. “χαρούμενα γενέθλια.”

Levi raised an eyebrow. He tore into the paper. His eyes widened slightly. “This... this is the most beautiful thing you have ever shoved in my lap.” he whispered happily, admiring the deluxe package of assorted windex bottles.

“Is it really?” Hanne asked drily. 

Levi got that hint. “No, but it’s a wonderful gift. A+. Thank you.”

“I’m glad you like it, little man.”

“Four eyes.”

“Why is your immediate reflex to my insults insulting me back?”

“Because usually it eventually makes you laugh and I like that.”

Hanne gaped at him. “Y-you...” she blinked rapidly and then punched him in the arm. “You can’t just say cute shit out of the blue like that!” 

 

“Stop!” Sascha shouted, with her hands stretched out in front of her.

“What!?” Johannes shouted, alarmed. Sascha pointed up. Johannes turned pale and tilted his head back. “God dammit, Sascha!”

Mistletoe.

Johannes glared at the promiscuous vegetation taped to the doorframe. “Sascha, I hate you.” Sascha merely beamed at him. Kord was hot on his heels, apparently, dragging Markus behind him. A significant amount of blood was re-directed to Johanne’s face. “Don’t you fucking dare.” he whispered. Armin appeared out of nowhere, camera in hand. “You have got to be shitting me with this right now. Why?”

“What did you want to show me?” Markus asked Kord, turning to see Johannes. Looking up to see the mistletoe. “Ah.” Markus crossed the short distance between himself and Johannes and quickly pecked him on the mouth. 

“Wait! That was too fast, I didn’t get the picture!” Armin cried. “No, stay still! Do it again!”

“That’s not in the rules! No one ever said anything about getting a picture!” Johannes blustered. He was bright red, all the way to the roots of his hair. 

“Alright there, active duty?” Kriemhild asked with a smirk. Markus blushed as well. 

“Fine, fuck you.” Johannes blurted out.

“He means thank you.” Markus attempted. 

“Nah, nah, I meant fuck you.”

“Johannes, that is not in the Christmas spirit.” Kord laughed.

“I’ll shove this mistletoe up your ass, is that in the Christmas spirit you damn Q-tip?” The sentence would have been a lot scarier if Johannes hadn’t stammered it out while his face was the colour of a tomato.

“As Kord’s fiance, I really can’t approve of you shoving anything up his ass, Johannes.”

“Oh my god!!” Krista shrieked. “Are you serious?!”

“I’m totally serious!” Everyone began clamoring over the couple, and the ring, and Johannes was just happy to have the attention off of him. He and Markus quietly slipped away from the rest of the crowd. 

“You are very rude when you’re embarrassed.” Markus observed.

“Excuse you, I’m rude all the time.” Johannes pouted. Markus laughed.

“Ah, my mistake.” They looked at each other. Markus could feel that worrying tug at his heart. And Johannes could feel that throbbing pain in his throat. And somehow, they were both happy about those feelings.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was supposed to move to updating this twice a week, wasn't I? shit, sorry. I'll make a note of it for next week.


	15. Just Who Was Freckled Jesus?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean has never been on a date before, has he? What a nerd.

Markus and Johannes looked at each other across the coffee table. Markus sipped his coffee. Johannes jiggled his leg.

“So...” Johannes said awkwardly. “Date.”

Markus pursed his lips and nodded. “Yup.”

Johannes hummed. “Shame about Kriemhild leaving.”

Markus nodded. “Yeah, poor Krista.”

“But eh, we get to team up together now, right?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“That’s nice.”

“Yeah.”

Johannes scratched at the back of his head. “Y’know, I’ve never been on a date. I get the feeling I’m not doing great.”

Markus smiled. “I think you just need to relax, really.”

“Coffee might have been a bad idea, then.”

Markus laughed. “Yeah, maybe!” He kicked Johannes’s leg under the chair. Johannes kicked back, and they kept it up for a few minutes, snickering quietly, so as not to draw a lot of attention.  

“Sorry for being awkward.” Johannes blushed. Markus laughed.

“That’s okay.”

“I just... I really like you.”

Markus smiled, but he could feel that something was wrong with that. He liked Johannes. He liked him a lot. But he knew that there was something very clearly separating him from Marco, and it was Marco that Johannes liked. 

“Do you think I’ve changed much since... you last saw me?”

Johannes’s smile fell. “Since I saw you at breakfast, or since... you died?”

Markus laughed sadly. “The latter.”

Johannes bit his lip and studied Markus. “Well, sadly,” he began, “I think you’ve lost a few freckles.”

“The ones on my arm?” Johannes coughed with guilty laughter. “Well, yeah, that too. But I just meant because it’s more cloudy in Germany than in Italy.”

“Where in Italy is... am I from?” Markus asked. “It said on the personnel record, something with a V... Not Venice, though.”

“Vernazza. It’s one of the villages in Cinque Terre.”

“Cinque Terre?” That sounded familiar, but he wasn’t sure if it was just because he’d heard it before or if he was remembering having lived there. “It’s a vacation spot, right?”

“Yeah. Really small, though. No cars.”

“So like Venice.”

Johannes laughed. “Yeah, like Venice but not.”

Markus nodded. “Any other differences?”

Johannes hummed in thought. “You look older. Maybe a bit taller? I’m not sure.” he smiled. “You’re more the same than different, really.”

“Really?”

“Yes. You’re still the same person.”

Markus was hardly convinced. “Are you sure?” he asked. “I believe a few weeks ago you said Marco was a... uh, ‘fucking saint?’”

Johannes blushed. “Heh, um, yeah.”

“Care to elaborate?” Markus asked. “Just who was _Freckled Jesus?_ ”

Johannes ran his finger along the edge of his coffee mug. He still hadn’t drunk any of it. “When I was first posted here, it was because I really, kind of fucked up on my last job. I’d gotten in an ‘altercation’ with my partner, and uh...” he scratched above his ear nervously. “Well, I kinda broke his nose.” Markus’s jaw dropped open. He hadn’t expected it of Johannes. “He was saying some seriously homophobic bullshit, and I punched him in the face. ...Twice.”

Markus rubbed the bridge of his nose. “And you got sent here?”

“Yeah. Which is a shame, I guess, since the Democratic Republic of Congo is much warmer, and I hate snow, but,” he smiled, “I met Marco.”

Markus was running out of coffee. “What did Marco say about the whole thing?”

“Nothing.” Johannes said. “He was very patient, even when I was being a total ass. Which happened a lot, if I’m honest. I like to think I’ve gotten over that to an extent, but ah...”

“Arend.” 

“We have been hashing out the same petty arguments for three years, and I will never back down as long as I live.” Johannes stated. “But I mean, at least it is just petty stuff now.” he finally took a sip of his coffee. “To be honest, Marco probably knew about it, and I know at first he was a little distant, which was probably smart, but he was really nice, and...”

“You fell for him.” Markus whispered. And it was terrible, because he knew that Johannes thought he was telling him that he was in love with him, but Markus could only feel that he was talking of someone else. 

“Yeah. Not quite at first, though. I had to give up on Mechtilde first.” he laughed. “But,after that...” he smiled wistfully, unaware that Markus’s chest was growing tighter by the second. “We were working on this mission, and it didn’t go well, we didn’t lose anyone, thankfully, but a lot of the slip-ups were my fault. I was nervous to go out again, and Marco really encouraged me. I think that was when I really started falling for him.”

Markus went to take another swig of coffee, but his mug was empty. 

“I wish I could remember that.” he said. “I’m sorry that we have to start from scratch.”

Johannes smiled. “I’m just happy that it’s happening at all.”

 

* * *

 

_Jean glared at the dorm room door. He’d fucked up, and he knew it. He should have just ignored Marlo, and then he wouldn’t be in this mess. It wasn’t that he would really miss Africa that much, but he knew that it would look awful on his records, and land him in trouble when he was looking for a promotion. He sighed and knocked on the door. It was opened almost immediately, and as soon as Jean saw his new roommate, he felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach._

_“Hi, I’m Markus.”_

_“Johannes.” they shook hands._

_He was gorgeous! Absolutely gorgeous. Tanned and freckled, with short, neat hair and a carefree smile. He was wearing a white shirt rolled at the sleeves. Honestly, he looked like he might have just stepped off a Mediterranean cruise ship or something!_

_“It’s nice to meet you.” Markus smiled._

_“Ye-yeah.” Of course Jean was blushing— that smile!!_ Well. _He thought._ I’d better never mention this, EVER. 

 

* * *

 

_Jean rubbed his eyes and curled up miserably in bed._

_“Hey, Johannes?” Markus called. Jean groaned._

_“Not right now, okay?” he called, turning to the wall. He couldn’t believe he had managed at all to get everyone out of there alive._

_“You did alright, really.” Markus said gently. Jean could hear him climbing the ladder to Jean’s bunk, and sitting at the foot of the bed. “You helped us get away. It’s all thanks to you. You’re a good leader.”_

_Jean looked out from his cocoon of blankets and misery. “Mechtilde nearly got her face ripped off.”_

_“But she didn’t!” Markus smiled. Jean had noticed before that Markus had truly stunning smile. His freckles all pooled into his dimples, and his eyes looked so understanding._

_“I really don’t think I’m much of a leader, though.” Jean muttered. “I wasn’t strong enough, and I almost got a bunch of people killed.”_

_Markus scooted a little closer to Jean and grabbed his hands. Markus had very soft hands, Jean noticed._

_“Johannes, I don’t mean any offense by this, but I think the fact that you aren’t strong really lets you understand how the weak feel. You’re very skilled at recognising a situation as it unfolds, and it gives you a clear grasp of what needs to be done, you know? You made the right call.” his_ smile _! “It’s what got me moving. It’s why I’m alive now.”_

_Jean was stunned. He had no idea how to reply to something so kind and heartfelt. He had noticed before that Markus was attractive, sure. He’d noticed it quite a lot. And he knew as well as anyone that he was sweeter than sugar, but wow. He felt like he was about to start crying, he was so touched. The crush that had revealed itself as soon as he arrived at Weiss Schloss finally began blooming in earnest, crashing over his head like a tsunami. He felt short of breath at this realisation, drowning in the pain of a crush._

_“Um, thanks.” he said lamely. “Thank you, that, oh wow.” He could have stabbed himself in the face. “Thanks, Markus.”_

_He’d fallen hard and fast. And no more than two months later, Marco was dead._

 

* * *

 

“You know, if you’re looking for something to help you remember, I do still have a bunch of Marco’s stuff. Most of it was sent back to his family, but I still have some of his textbooks, and some work things. His gear and laptop, stuff like that.”

Markus was surprised. “You held on to his laptop for that long?”

Johannes reddened. “Um, yeah.”

Markus bit his lip. “Doesn’t it seem a bit invasive? Going through someone else’s laptop?”

Johannes seemed surprised. “Well, I guess. But, you do need a laptop for work, right?”

“Lame excuse, Kirschtein.” Johannes laughed. “Well, I guess we’ll see.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun story actually, I have another jeanmarco fic open in a different tab, and I've been reading it all day, when I remembered I was supposed to post this yesterday, so I go to upload it. I have to get up for a second because my dog is whining at the door, and I come back to read what I've put in, and I forgot that it was my work.


	16. I Have Always Been Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prepare your kokoros.

When they returned to Weiss Schloss, Markus dug out and plugged in Marco’s laptop to charge. When it had powered up enough to start up, he entered the passcode. The logo spun for a second before letting him in, giving him just enough time to realise he had known the passcode. cane24558.

“Johannes!” he called out. 

“In the bathroom, just a second!”

cane24558. Why did he know that? Cane, the Italian for dog, and then numbers. Markus liked dogs, so that he possibly could have guessed, but the numbers? His fingers ghosted over the keyboard, trying to type them out again with muscle memory. 24558. 2, 4, 55, 8? 2, 4, 5, 5, 8. The fives were separate. They all meant something. Or, wait, did the fives go together? He wasn’t sure. 

“Johannes! Do you know the passcode to get in the computer?” 

“Uh, shit, yeah! I have it written down somewhere, hang on!” 

“No, I have it, I just wanted to know if you knew what the numbers were for.”

Johannes stepped out of the bathroom. “What are the numbers?”

“Two, four, five five, eight.”

“Um... something about your siblings, I think. How old they are, maybe?”

It didn’t sound right. Markus shook his head. He pressed the F3 key to see if there were any windows open. 

“I’ve had the same gmail window open since 2012.”

“Impressive.” Johannes nodded. Markus refreshed the page. There were several notifications telling him to update his account. There weren’t a lot of emails. Lots of spam in his inbox, but other than that...

There were emails from someone labelled **Mom**. His mom. There were about eight of them. He opened the oldest one. 

_Dear Marco,_

_How have you been? We’ve all been very well, except for Celia and your father, who both have colds. It’s the twins’ birthday tomorrow, so I’d like to try and call you on Skype! It would be nice for them to see you. I hope you can get some time off in the summer to come down. We’ve had such lovely weather! Iacopo has a recital in a couple weeks, I think I told you that in my last email, haha!_

_Well, I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, honey!_

_Love,_

_Mamma. <3_

“I never called her.” Markus said. “It’s dated March 4th, a week before I woke up in the hospital.” His throat felt thick. He’d always just imagined his family as hypothetical strangers who weren’t really relevant. But this was a person. Johannes sat on the bed next to him.

“You used to talk about your family quite a bit.” Johannes said. “You were really close with them. I was kind of jealous.” Markus opened another of the emails. 

_Dear Marco,_

_I don’t really know why I’m writing this. Your commander’s letter got here yesterday. Oh, mio bambino. I’m so sorry. Oh my god. I can’t believe this. I can’_

_I shouldn’t send this._

_I love you so much, sweetheart._

_I love you._

There was a distinct lump in Markus’ throat. This poor woman. He clicked into the next email.

_Dearest Marco,_

_Your funeral was yesterday. It’s funny, I think Matilde understands what’s happened. She’s been fine since you left, but even before we found out, she’d been upset. Now we all are. You always said dogs are amazing._

_I love you,_

_Mamma._

The next one.

_Dear Marco,_

_Azzura and Iacopo took Celia down to that cave of yours. I always hated when you kids would go down there, I thought it was so dangerous. You’d think I wouldn’t let any of them anywhere near there now. I probably shouldn’t have. Why? I just... Azzura looked so intent, and she’s the oldes t now. She shouldn’t be!_

_Anyways, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. She wanted to show Celia some of the things you brought down there. I think they must have some very dear memories of you down there. I understand. I’m still worried. I love you all so much. I don’t want to lose them too._

_I love you, Marco._

_Mamma._

A tear splashed onto the laptop’s keyboard. Markus’s shoulders were shaking. He closed the laptop and slid it next to his leg and off his lap so that he could turn to Johannes, who immediately drew him into a hug.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Johannes said softly, rubbing his back. 

“It’s not okay!” Markus sobbed. “It’s my fault, oh my god!” 

“What? No! It’s not your fault, what’s your fault?”

“I’m fine! Mostly fine, anyways, and everyone, you, my-my mother, everyone, you all thought I was dead!” he couldn’t get the image of a broken-hearted mother crying over a keyboard, missing her dead son, while he wandered the streets of Berlin completely oblivious to all the pain he was causing by being gone. Well, he knew now. He knew. And yet...

“That’s not your fault!” Johannes cried. Markus choked around the lump in his throat. “It’s okay, I’m right here.”

Markus went still, taking shuddery breaths. _I’m here._ He’d never cried like this. Not so far as he could remember. He’d cried in the hospital. But never like this. He’d cried alone. He drew back from Johannes’s arms. 

“It’s not okay!” his voice cracked out. “It’s not okay.” Johannes went to touch his face, and he flinched away.

“Why, though?” Johannes asked. “We’re just happy to have you back.”

Markus’s brows pulled together. “I’m not... I’m not back. I’ve never been here before. I haven’t... I...” tears rolled hot down his face. He leapt up from the bed suddenly and ran his fingers through his hair. He could barely breathe.

“Markus?” Johannes looked terrified. Markus was terrified. Johannes reached out to Markus, presumably to try and help him, but he jerked away again. “Why can’t you just let us be here for you?” Johannes cried.

“BECAUSE THE FIRST THING I CAN REMEMBER AT ALL IS WAKING UP IN A HOSPITAL, COMPLETELY ALONE IN AGONIZING PAIN!” Markus shouted, and that shut Johannes up. That seemed to shut everything up. It had never been so silent, and he had no doubt that anyone on that floor had heard it as well. Markus still didn’t feel like he was getting enough air in, and his head was spinning. Johannes said nothing,like he wasn’t even there, and let him just stand there, shaking and crying. The quiet helped, and Markus found a way to breathe again. After another minute, he spoke up again. “I...” he started to apologise, but stopped. He wasn’t sorry, it was true! “I’m alone. I have always been alone.” he squeezed his eyes shut. 

Johannes was quiet. “What do you want to do?” he finally asked. His voice was soft, and patient.

“I don’t know.” Markus whispered. He felt exhausted, and all he wanted to do was crawl into bed and stay there forever. “You all know me, and it’s not me, this isn’t my life, it’s someone else’s! I don’t belong here! I don’t...” he tried not to get so agitated, he desperately didn’t want that feeling of panic to come back. “I don’t belong anywhere.” he said, and the feeling of broken incompletion seemed to grab him by the heart so fiercely that it broke.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It may get worse.


	17. Long Trip Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can't have hurt/comfort without hurt ahahaha.

Jean sat on the edge of the kitchen counter, sipping at the glass of whiskey that Erwin thought was securely hidden in the top of the cupboard. Normally no one touched it, however...

However, Jean hadn’t slept at all that night. He had seen people fall apart in a panic. Armin, Arend, Bertholdt. Oh yes, he’d seen lots of people cry. 

He had never seen Marco cry. 

Marco had always been very calm in battle and in casual life. If someone else was worried, he was always there to offer advice, and to say the right thing. Jean had always admired that about him. He was level-headed, and patient, and just all-around kind-hearted. So seeing Markus like that scared him. He knew that Markus was in a terrible place, it was obvious. He didn’t know how to help. It seemed like right now he just wanted to be alone, but Jean was scared to leave him running circles in his head. He took a sip of Erwin’s whiskey and let it burn his throat. He checked the clock over the stove. 4:31. He sighed. It was still too early to be making breakfast. Which meant that all he could do was sit and uselessly run circles in his own head.

 

* * *

 

Markus hadn’t slept either. He kept thinking about the emails sent by his mother. He was alive. Did she know? He thought about what Hannah had said, that even having a damaged version of a loved one was better than not having them at all anymore. 

He knew that technically he and Marco were the same person. That they shared a personality, and a life, whether it was remembered or not. But he couldn’t make himself really believe that it was true. It was, it was...

“Why can’t I get it?” he hissed. The room was empty. He’d heard Johannes get out of bed earlier and leave. The room seemed dark and cold without him. 

He didn’t want to keep arguing with Johannes. He didn’t really want to apologise, either. _What do I want to do, then?_ He asked himself. He wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and grabbed the laptop, opening it. He hadn’t finished reading the emails. He clicked on the most recent one. 

_Dear Marco,_

_Merry Christmas, bambino. Celia made scarves for everyone this year, she’s getting very good at it, though I don’t know that it’ll ever be cold enough here for us to use them! She didn’t want anyone to see, I don’t think, but she made you one, too. I wonder if it’s snowing in Germany now. You would have been able to use a scarf, I’m sure. She’s not the only one to think she should get you something for Christmas, though. I saw a book in the store that you would have loved. I picked it up, and thought ‘I should get this for Marco’, and then I remembered. It’s been years now. I should know better. I don’t know that I’ll ever stop doing things like that. I will never stop loving you, my darling._

_Iacopo gave Azzura the new Taylor Swift album. I don’t like it, personally, but she seems to love it. I wish you could tell me what you think of it. She won’t stop playing it, and I have now memorised the words to all of Shake It Off. Pop music is not my thing. Luciano has started playing violin, as well, and while I want to encourage him, I also want to rip my ears off. It’s never quiet around here, that’s for sure. The twins are trying to start a band, I believe, but I’m not sure how it’s going to work with just violin and drums. Celia is singing for them though, and she has such a beautiful voice. They’ve named it “Celia and the Death Potatoes”._

_I hate to say it, but Matilde is getting on in years. The fur around her mouth and eyes is turning white now, and she doesn’t like running up and down the hill at all anymore. She mostly just sits in the living room now and barks when Luciano starts playing his violin. She doesn’t seem to mind Taylor Swift, though._

_Your brothers and sisters have all grown so much. Iacopo is taller than I am now. I wish you could be here to see them. I miss you so much, bambino._

_Merry Christmas,_

_Love,_

_Mamma. <3_

Markus desperately wanted to click the reply button. He wanted to tell this lovely woman that it had snowed, that he loved Taylor Swift’s new album, and that “Celia and the Death Potatoes” was a fantastic name for a band. Someone should tell her that. He didn’t write to her though, not yet. But he wanted to, he did. So that was something. He sighed and went to get in the shower. 

 

* * *

 

Markus stared at a specific point on the floor where Johannes had left a sock. He didn’t move the sock. He wasn’t even thinking about the sock. He wasn’t sure what he was thinking about. 

Decide.

Decide!

Should he? Did he want to? Yes, yes he did want to, but should he drop that bombshell on this poor woman? Would Erwin even let him go so soon after he’d gotten back? 

He wanted to go. He wanted to see this family, and even if he didn’t remember, maybe it would make them feel a little better, or... something?

He rubbed his eyes.

He was going.

He wasn’t going!

Decide!

 

* * *

 

He asked Erwin. He was surprised that Erwin was actually willing to let him go. He supposed it probably had something to do with Dr. Zimmerman being there at the time. She suggested that he should go, for his mental health. So he had a week to spend in Italy. A week with more strangers and expectations, and he had no idea whether or not it was a good idea. 

“So, you’re going to Cinque Terre.” Johannes said from the top bunk across the room.

“Yeah.” Markus said. Because he was. 

“I, um... I hope the weather is nice.”

“Thanks.” Markus said. He could hear that he was crying. Why was this happening? 

“Are you okay?” he heard Johannes ask distantly.

“Fuck no.” Markus sat up, a hand rubbing at eyes, but him barely feeling it. He did feel Johannes climbing into his bunk and stroking his hair.

“Johannes, I don’t know who I am.” Markus whispered. “You know me better than I do.”

Johannes gazed at him. “You’re different. Yes. I’ve said you’re different. But you are the same person.”

“I don’t know that person. I don’t remember anything from before I was sixteen, Johannes.” his voice cracked. “There’s so much about myself that I don’t know, and that I can’t connect with that if feels like I’m barely a person at all.” his eyes were stinging. “There isn’t enough to me to be... whole, and it’s like...” he sniffed back tears. “I _know_ that I have to remember to stop feeling like this, and there are times when it’s all I can think about, but most of the time, I just _don’t care._ I can’t make myself care. It’s just like it’s not real, or it’s not any of my business. It...” he took a shuddering breath. “It’s like nothing is real.” He couldn’t say anything more. Maybe he’d said too much. Jean had moved to hug him, and Markus was crying much harder than he ever remembered crying. Bottled up emotions soaked their way through Jean’s shirt. 

Jean was quiet for a moment, not shushing him, not telling him it would be okay. Markus was glad, because he didn’t want to hear that. “I thought you just didn’t want your memories back!” he said finally. 

“I don’t!” Markus hesitated. “Or... I don’t know. I do. I do want them. But it’s like, they aren’t _mine_. So I can’t have them.”

“But...” Johannes sounded conflicted. “They are yours.”

Markus squeezed his eyes shut. “I know that.” he said. “But it doesn’t help at all.”

Johannes awkwardly rubbed his back. “Then how do I help you?”

“...I don’t know.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Johannes asked softly. Markus’s eyes widened, and he nodded. 

“Yes.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ROAD TRIP! ...ok, plane trip...
> 
> the whole scarf thing is actually 100% based on my having made scarves for relatives in Italy a while back, and then remembering Italy pretty much never gets below 0degrees anyways and they won't need them. Oh, well.


	18. Home Sweet Where Am I?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I miss Cinque Terra so much honestly like, wow. It was really nice there.

The flight was only an hour and a half, thankfully. But after that, there was a three-hour drive, and Jean really wasn’t looking forward to that. He didn’t like driving. He’d gotten his license in Berlin, and he had used it maybe twice in the last two years. He climbed into the driver’s seat and froze.

“Markus,” he asked, “What side of the road do you drive on in Italy??” 

“The left.” Markus replied. “That’s why the driver’s seat is on the left.”

“Oh,” said Jean, looking at the wheel. “Right. Thanks.”

Milan wasn’t as exciting to drive around as he’d thought it might be. It was mostly shops, though they got to drive past the Duomo. It reminded him a bit of Paris, actually. 

As they left the city and drove through farmland, Jean thought he spotted a woman sitting by the side of the road with an umbrella.

“Wait, what was that?”

“A field hooker.” Markus answered.

“What??”

“It was a prostitute.”

“In the field?”

“Yeah.”

Jean blinked in surprise. “That sounds like a terrible job.”

“Worse than ours?” Markus asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Uuh...” Jean really couldn’t argue with that one. 

 

* * *

 

They drove for another couple hours. Markus was fairly quiet, so Jean slid the Téléphone CD in and let it play, but not so loudly that Markus couldn’t fall asleep. 

 

* * *

 

The car stopped.

“Hey,” said Johannes. “Hey wake up, I have a question.”

Markus rubbed his eyes and yawned. “What?”

“Do you want to keep driving through the hills, or would you rather get on a ferry?”

“A boat?”

“Yeah, well, we could go through the hills, or we could get on a boat and see some gorgeous scenery.”

“We didn’t really come for the scenery.”

“No, but it’s there.” Johannes smiled.

Markus yawned. “Well, then, the scenic boat ride, I guess.”

“Straight ahead it is, then.” Johannes smiled. Markus curled back up into his seat.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Markus, we’re here.” Johannes nudged his shoulder. Markus’ mouth felt dry from sleep. “Time to get on a boat.”

“Boat?”

“Yes, a boat, man you were out!” Johannes laughed. Markus looked up. They were parked by the beach. 

“Oh, okay.” Markus yawned and stretched. “What time is it?” Johannes checked the dash for him.

“Ah, 12:09, if we hurry we can catch the 12:20.” Markus stopped mid-stretch.

“That’s eleven minutes!” he shouted. 

“Yeah, grab your backpack.”

A string of nervous curses dribbled out of Markus’ alarmed mouth. He grabbed, and dropped, and grabbed his backpack, which kept slipping off of his right shoulder. He eventually gave up and just held it by the top strap. They had to run down the pier to catch the boat, and were both significantly out of breath, but safely on board with all of their belongings in time. 

The spray of the ocean was refreshing and wonderful. It was a bit bright, and Markus wished he had a pair of sunglasses. 

“Man...” Johannes said, looking out at the shimmering Mediterranean. “Armin would be so jealous right now.”

Markus laughed. “Poor guy!” 

The ferry rounded a small stretch of rock, and they could finally see Vernazza. Johannes gasped.

“I can’t believe you grew up _here!”_ Johannes cried. “It’s gorgeous!”

“Yeah.” Markus nodded.

It was beautiful. Bright blue water under an equally clear sky, with houses dotted all over the green cliffs that looked like candy. It was probably the most beautiful place Markus had ever set eyes upon. And yet he felt no awe, no wonder. He felt happy. It felt familiar. Was this home, then?

 

* * *

 

“It’s a hike to get up there.” Johannes nodded. 

“Yeah, no problem!” Markus smiled.

 

* * *

 

Markus could not breathe.

“Take a left.” Johannes wheezed.

“We should have brought the 3DMG and just zipped up there!” Markus scowled. Johannes let out an audible puff of air that Markus assumed was meant to be a laugh, and they continued climbing.

 

* * *

 

Markus stared at the door, with his heart pounding in his throat. 

“Do you want me to knock?” Johannes asked softly, noting Markus’ hesitation. Markus steeled himself and shook his head.

“No.” he rapped on the door. It was opened immediately by a kind looking woman with tears in her eyes. 

“Marco, mio bambino!” she cried, and hugged him. Markus seized up.

“C-ciao, madre.” he looked frantically to Johannes for help. 

“Signora Boveri?” Johannes smiled awkwardly. “Ciao, sono Jean Rousseau.” Markus’ mother dabbed her tears away with a handkerchief and turned to kiss Jean on both cheeks.

“It’s nice to meet you. You work with Marco?”

Jean nodded. “We’re partners.”

Markus overcontemplated that sentence.

His mother nodded and smiled. “Well, you’re welcome here, anytime, we’re so happy to have you.”

A small freckled face poked out of the door.

“Marco?” it asked.

Markus looked down. Siblings. This was sure to be the youngest. “Celia?” he asked. The little girl nodded solemnly. 

“Celia! Wait!” Another, much older girl, in her late teens, Markus supposed this was the oldest girl, Azzura.

“Come in, come in, dears!” Markus’ mother gestured for them to come in.

“Grazie.” Markus nodded. The door opened almost immediately in to the living room, where everyone was conglomerated, and staring eagerly at Markus. A dog barked.

Markus’ eyes zeroed in on the dog. He smiled at the dog. The dog waved her tail.

“Hi.” Markus said to everyone, feeling much better due to the presence of the dog.

“Hey.” said the twins. Markus bit his lip. He’d forgotten their names. One of them was Enrico, he was pretty sure. No idea which twin was which. No idea how to tell. They weren’t dressed the same way, but of course, that wouldn’t be a viable way to tell them apart tomorrow. But the dog was wagging her tail and this gave Markus strength.

“Your commander told us about your situation.” Signora Boveri said, smiling sadly. “And we understand, of course, we’re just so happy to have you back.”

Markus’ heart jumped into his mouth. He remembered vividly what he’d said to Johannes. He didn’t want to tell this lovely woman that he wasn’t her son. He decided not to. He just nodded happily. 

Really, he knew there was no doubt that these people were his family. They looked just like him. Dark-haired, and freckled, although perhaps they were a bit darker, since they had all been living under the warm Mediterranean sun. 

They were all trying so hard to make him comfortable, but Jean talked more than he did, occasionally leaning over to ask what a certain word was in Italian. 

“Well,” Marco’s mother smiled. “You must be tired from your trip.”

“It has been a long day.” Jean smiled. 

“Iacopo, why don’t you show them into your room?”

Jean and Markus followed Marco’s little brother further into the unfamiliar house. 

“I’ve set up the cot in my room.” Iacopo said. “You guys will have to share, though. Is that okay?”

“That’s fine.” Jean smiled.

 

* * *

 

“Hey,” Jean whispered in German. “Bist du wach?”

“Yeah... This was a terrible idea.” Markus groaned. “This isn’t going to help.”

“It could still help.” Jean ran his fingers against Markus’s. 

Markus sighed, unconvinced. “I’m glad you’re here, at least.” he whispered, lacing his fingers through Jean’s. “It would be a lot more uncomfortable without you.”

Jean didn’t reply, but merely wrapped an arm around Markus and buried his face in Markus’ neck. “There’s no mistaking them for your family though. They’re all just as freckly.”

Markus laughed softly. “Ja...” they fell silent. Markus could hear Marco’s mother talking with his father in the kitchen. “It’s the people, I think.” he said. “I feel like I’m so close... looking at buildings, landscapes, like I recognise them, almost. Not quite like home, but like it’s somewhere I’ve been. It’s close, really close. But not enough. And then I get to the people, and even if they were familiar, the... the pressure... That I know I should know them, and they know me. But I can’t remember. I can’t stand it, Jean!” Jean said nothing for a long moment.

“Markus?” Jean finally asked.

“What?”

“Even if you never remember anything ever again, I will still be incredibly happy to have you in my life. You’re a wonderful, amazing person. I... I love you. A lot. You might not feel like all the pieces are there, but... it’s okay. You are a whole person. Your past isn’t what makes you who you are, I don’t think.”

Markus wanted to believe this. But something about it didn’t click. “I want to know.” he said. “I want those memories. I can’t stand how you, how everyone at Weiss Schloss, how my family all look at me. I feel like I’m standing in for someone else, and it’s just... wrong.”

“Markus... Marco... I’m okay. I really am. Your family is too. It’s awkward, still, sure. And it sucks, it really does. But I just want you to be happy, and I’m sure your family is happy to have as much of you back as they can have. If you want your memories back, stop worrying about everyone else, and want them for yourself.”

Markus thought about it. He couldn’t simply place himself in Marco’s spot. Take his family, his job, his friends. It was wrong. He still felt like an impostor.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is actually an error here, you can't get to Vernazza through the hills. At least not to the area that Marco's family lives in, so it's a really good thing that they did decide to take the ferry!


	19. Just Give In Already

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Markus pets a dog, listens to a wise nine-year-old, and goes exploring.

Markus was sitting on a small fenced in ledge, overlooking the sea. It was a beautiful day. Not too cold, and the sky was beautifully clear. It was an amazing view. He could see most of the village, and the clear water. It was pretty early, he knew. He’d left Jean back at the house to sleep in. He wasn’t sure how he had found his way to this little porch, but Matilde had followed him happily enough. There was a comfortable lawn chair waiting for him that he fit perfectly in. He could only conclude that this was somewhere Marco had come a lot. Somewhere Markus had come a lot. 

He thought about what Jean had said the night before. That even if his memories came back, Jean and his family would still love him, and that if he wanted the memories he should want them for himself. He did want them for himself. And he wanted them badly. He thought back to the month before, when he didn’t care at all about his memories, or his friends and family. They had meant nothing to him then, and they meant so much now. He wanted to remember. 

“Excuse me?” a small, piping voice called. Markus looked up from petting Matilde. Celia was standing just behind him, biting her fingernails.

“Yes?” he said. Celia frowned. 

“I... I... I don’t remember Marco either.” Celia said, shyly. “He left a long time ago, and I was really little. Everyone else remembers him really well, and I only remember a little bit about him.”

Markus stared at the little girl. “You’re not convinced that I’m actually him, either, are you?”

“E-everyone else seems pretty sure.” Celia squeaked, digging the toe of her sneaker into the dirt.

“Yeah, that’s true.” Markus hummed. He turned back to the dog. “You said you remember Marco a little. How old were you when he left?” he asked. 

“Five.”

“So now you’re...”

Celia nodded. “Nine.”

“What do you remember?”

“Not telling.” Celia said.

Markus looked back up at her, surprised. “Why?”

“Because if you are Marco, then you don’t need me to tell you.” she sat down next to him on the edge of the chair’s arm. “Why don’t you think you’re Marco?” she asked.

“Well, I guess... I know that I _am_ Marco.” Markus tried to explain. “But... it doesn’t feel right. I can’t connect myself and Marco together and so nothing... feels like it should be mine. Not Marco’s friends, or his job, or his family, or his dog.” Matilde butted against his hand for him to keep petting her. “Or his memories. I mean, I do like all those things. I like Marco’s job, and his friends, and his dog, and I do want his memories, but I feel guilty for it. Like I’m... stealing, or something. They aren’t mine, and I shouldn’t have them.”

Celia nodded solemnly, and leaned against his right side. He twitched in surprise. “Sorry, does that hurt?”

“Uh, no. No, it doesn’t hurt anymore.” Markus smiled.

“Okay.” she leaned against him again. “Well, I don’t think Marco would mind. You using his stuff, I mean. He was really nice, and he always shared his sweets with me, so he’d probably be okay with you being friends with his friends, and having his job and everything. _I_ don’t mind.”

“You don’t?” Marco smiled at her, and she suddenly lit up like a firefly. 

“Nope!” she said. “You’re just as nice as he is, and I think everyone’s probably right, and you really are the same person. So don’t worry.”

“Thanks.” he said, and reached over to ruffle her hair. “You really don’t think I’m very different from him?”

“Hm... I think you’re more... nervous, maybe. ‘Cause you don’t know us as well as he did.” He nodded. 

“Makes sense.”

“Hey!” Celia shouted suddenly.

“What?”

“I know something that Marco would definitely wanna share!” she said. “Come on, I’ll show you!” she jumped up, grabbed Markus by the wrist, and started running towardsthe path to the village. “Come on!” 

 

* * *

 

Celia dragged Markus all the way down to the rocky beach, dodging tourists, and dogs, both of all shapes and sizes, until they were standing on a rocky strip of land that curled around to see a large, half-submerged cave. 

“What’s that?” Markus asked.

“It’s a cave.” Celia answered.

“Right. I don’t think he’d have a lot of choice in sharing this cave.” Markus noted, looking at all the people on the beach. “Are we going to take a boat in?”

“I can’t pilot a boat, I’m ten.”

“Right.” Markus nodded. “I can’t pilot a boat, I only have one hand.”

“Right. There’s another entrance up top though, and that was the one we always used to use to get down there. Come on!” and again he was being dragged off. Quite a while after that, they had climbed up onto the cliffside above the cave, and he was being shoved down a dark hole, wriggling his way through a dirty, but well-worn passage, until he popped out in a big cavern.

It wasn’t a magical cave. It was damp and dirty and dark, and frankly it smelled rather strongly of fish. But what else it was was _familiar_. 

“I’ve been here.” he said. It was true, he knew he had been here. He took a deep breath. It smelled familiar. He remembered this place. He had been there. Many times. He’d grown up here. He knew this. He remembered it. Why did he keep blocking himself off from it? Why couldn’t he just fucking accept it? He was Marco. That was his name. This was his past. His family, his home, his dog, his job, his friends, his _crush._ And they were certainly, definitely, his memories.

“This is my past.” he whispered.

And the memories finally, _finally_ started bleeding in, long overdue, very welcome, and not at all alien. They were perfectly his, perfectly settling into their place. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT CHAPTER - FLASHBACKS


	20. Flooded Caves, Love, and Other Dangers

_“Celia, knock it off, you’re not coming!” Enrico shouted._

_“Bu’ I wanna! I wanna go wif you guys!”_

_“It’s too dangerous for you, you’re too little!” Luciano_

_“Bu-”_

_“Sorry, bambino, they’re right. It’s really dangerous, and if you get hurt down there, mom’ll kill all of us.” Marco said, smiling and ruffling Celia’s hair. “Maybe next time.”_

_~_

 

_Marco stared at the monster. He’d gotten lost, somewhere near the Spanish Steps, was all he knew, and now he was gaping at this giant, and what’s worse, it was staring back._

_Suddenly, out of nowhere, there was a whizzing noise, and the giant fell. There was someone standing at the bloody nape of the creature’s neck._

_“Ciao.” she said._

_Marco blinked back tears. “Cia-ciao.” he stammered. “W-what was that?” he shouted._

_“A titan. Nasty bastards.” she brushed her short, ginger hair behind her ear. “You can see them, then?”_

_“How could anyone miss them?”_

_She smiled. “You’d be surprised!” She sheathed her swords and walked over to Marco. “How old are you, kid?”_

_“T-ten.”_

_“Ten.” she nodded. “It’s a little young, but I guess it can’t be helped.” she held her hand out to Marco. “You’d better come with me.”_

_“B-but I have to find my family!” Marco said. “I lost them in a crowd, and I don’t know where I am.”_

_The woman nodded. “Alright. What’s your name?”_

_“Marco Boveri.”_

_She smiled. “I’m Petra.” she offered her hand again, and Marco let her pull him to her feet. “Come on, let’s go find your parents.”_

_~_

 

_“Oi, Boveri!” someone shouted. He turned to see Commander Shadis waving at him from across the courtyard. He ran over._

_“Yes, Commander?”_

_“I’d like to talk to you about an assignment posting. You’re very close to finishing your training, and you’re about the right age.”_

_“Where is the posting?” Marco asked._

_“Berlin, Germany. Do you speak German, Boveri?”_

_“Um, no, I speak Spanish, and a little English.”_

_“I’d get studying it. How old are you, Boveri?”_

_“Thirteen.”_

_“You should be aiming to be at that posting by next year. I’d start studying. They want someone to do their personnel records, and I think you’d be suitable for that job.”_

_~_

 

_Marco surveyed the exterior of the building. It was a three-story white building, with quite an unassuming, if ornate appearance. Not quite what he had expected from “White Castle”. He opened the door and went right in, as he’d been directed to do. He was immediately met by a much shorter blond boy._

_“Um, hallo.” Marco said, smiling awkwardly to the other agent._

_“Hallo.” the smaller boy replied. “Ich bin Armin.”_

_“Markus Bodt.” Marco said. The name sounded strange to him, though it was about as close as one could get. “I’m doing the personnel records.”_

_“I do the mission arrangements. Strategic planning and stuff.”_

_“Cool.” Marco said. “Is there anyone else here yet?”_

_Armin nodded. “Yeah, the administrators, of course, and three others. Arend Jaeger, Mechtilde Ackerman, and Anika Leonhardt.”_

_“But those aren’t their real names?”_

_“No, but I’m sure they’re pretty close.” he said. “It makes it feel more natural to respond to.”_

_“Your German is very good. Where are you from?” Marco asked._

_“Dresden.” Armin smiled. “I’m one of the very few that’s not changing his name to blend in.”_

_“I see.” Marco laughed._

_“You’re from, what, Italy?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“So it’s probably... Marco?”_

_Marco nodded. “I guess it’s not too hard to figure out.”_

_“Not really. But Mechtilde is really throwing me off. She’s Japanese, so I have no idea what that one might be.”_

_“Well, I’ll be getting the personnel records tomorrow, I could tell you, if you want.”_

_“And spoil the fun of trying to figure it out?” Armin asked, incredulously. “No way!”_

_~_

 

_“Look, Markus, just be patient with him, okay?” Hanne said. “I’ve assigned him to team up with you because I know how good you are with people, and he’s... not.”_

_“I can do that.” Marco nodded. “What’s his name?”_

_“Well, his cover name for this assignment is Johannes Kirschtein.”_

_~_

 

_“Hi, I’m Markus.” Marco smiled at Johannes._

_“Johannes.” they shook hands. Johannes was quite good-looking, Marco thought. He liked his hair._

_“It’s nice to meet you.” Marco smiled._

_“Ye-yeah.” Johannes blushed._

He’s adorable, omg. _Marco thought._

_~_

 

_“Is there any other music you like?” Marco asked._

_“Well, uh, I, um, well, I’ve heard other music, sure.” Johannes blushed._

_“Uh huh. And what do you like?”_

_“I um, I don’t know.” Johannes said._

_“You’re telling me that you’ve been listening to the same two albums for your entire life? And that’s it?”_

_“Well what do_ you _like?” Johannes challenged. Marco thought his pouting face was sort of cute._

_“Hm... I like Taylor Swift. And Disney music.” Marco said with a smile. Johannes stared at him._

_“That’s pretty gay.” he said finally. Marco winced._

_“What’s wrong with gay?” he said, while still remembering that Hanne had said he was difficult. He just hoped that didn’t mean he was homophobic._

_“Nothing.” Johannes said. “I guess most guys wouldn’t admit to liking that kind of stuff.” Marco was surprised. He hadn’t expected that reply. “That’s cool.”_

_“Oh, um, thanks.” Marco said. He smiled._

_~_

_“H-hey, Mechtilde, I um... I, I like your hair.”_

_Mechtilde stared at Johannes. “Thanks.” she said, and left after Arend._

_Johannes turned to look at Marco. He made a face and screamed silently._

_“Ah well.” Marco said, trying as hard as he possibly could to make it sound like he wasn’t secretly pleased. “She just really seems to like Arend, you know?”_

_“Fuckin’_ Jaeger. _” Johannes grumbled. “What does he have that I don’t?”_

_“Um... green eyes?”_

_"I bet that's it, little bastard." Johannes scowled. Marco didn't say that he liked Johannes's hazel eyes just fine._

_“Six years worth of emotional support and care. Also he speaks Japanese.” Armin piped up._

_“Fuck off, Arlert.”_

_~_

 

_Marco looked at Jean, who was refilling his gas tank for the mission. “Sounds like it’s going to be pretty dangerous.” he said._

_“Yeah. Be careful in there.” Jean said. “Marco, um...”_

_Marco looked up, surprised that Jean had used his real name. “Yes?”_ Oh please say it.

_“I uh... be careful.”_

_“You already said that.” Marco noted._

_Jean blushed. “Yeah, right. Uh, nevermind, I’ll... I’ll tell you later I guess.”_

_Marco’s shoulders slumped. “Okay.” he frowned. “You’d better!” he said with a smile._

_“Swiftie.”_

_“Hipster.”_

_~_

 

_Marco pressed the communication button on his helmet. “Anika! The structural integrity of the building has been compromised! The exit has collapsed, I need an extraction team immediately! Anika! Anika?” Only static came in response. He heard a creak from the overhead beams. “Anika, this is an emergency!” A bead of sweat rolled down his neck. He pounded on the wall of rubble keeping him trapped. Immediately, a sharp crack came from the ceiling. He looked up in terror. The entire thing seemed ready to fall at any time. He started running to the back of the room, just as the ceiling collapsed._

_When he opened his eyes, all he could sense was the sickening pain in his right arm. He couldn’t see for the pain, nor anything else. He didn’t hear his own screaming. It didn’t last, though. Soon enough he could smell blood, and see the ceiling, and that there was still more wood and metal ready to come down. He turned his head, causing stabs of pain through his shoulder, but he couldn’t see the wound, or how bad it was, as his own helmet was blocking his view. He wrenched it off with his left hand, tears of pain spilling from his eyes. He tossed the helmet off to his left, and stared in horror at his arm._

_It was almost completely crushed under the rubble. There would be no saving it, he knew, and it began to dawn on him that there might not be any saving him. He turned, and strained to reach his helmet. “Why did I take it off? Why did I do that? Oh, my God.” he cried. He stretched his fingers, barely brushing against the helmet. Something sliced into his shoulder and he shrieked. A sharp piece of metal had fallen from it’s perch on the rubble pile and cut him deeply. He could taste blood now. He stared up at the ceiling. It was blurry through his tears. But he could see the teetering metal piece just above his head._

_“Dio mio.” he sobbed. “Jean, mi dispiace. Mi dispiace tanto. Dio mio.” He could see the metal bar slipping from it’s perch. “Sto per morire! Mi dispiace. Mi dispiace tanto. Ti amo, Jean.”_

_It fell._

 

* * *

 

“Uh, hey?” Celia asked with concern. “M-Marco, are you okay?”

Marco blinked.“I, I...” he turned to look at his sister. She looked worried, and he smiled at her. “Yeah, I’m okay, Cece.” He reached over to ruffle her hair. 

Her eyes went wide, and filled with tears. “Marco?” 

He nodded. 

She flung her arms around him. “That’s what I remembered.” she sobbed into his chest. “Your smile, and ruffling my hair, and how you used to call me Cece!” 

Marco’s smile widened. “Come on, let’s get out of this cave.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I'm almost done posting this! There'll be another update on Tuesday, and then that'll be the end of it...


	21. It's Dark, But It's Not Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some solid Dadvice

“Grazie, Senora Boveri.” Jean said, taking the cup of coffee. It was much better than any coffee he’d ever managed to make. _Italy._ He thought approvingly. The door then slammed open.

“Mamma!” Jean nearly dropped his coffee mug. He whirled around to stare at the open door. There before him was a disheveled, but glowing, _Marco_.

 

* * *

 

He had argued with Jean, so soon after their first date. They’d had a first date! He’d gotten to go on a date with _Jean,_ and nothing more had really come of it since then. Unacceptable! He’d have to remedy that situation as soon as possible. It wasn’t very possible at the moment, but as soon as it was appropriate, he was taking the liberty of kissing that boy. Ardently. 

Marco’s eyes darted to his mother. 

“Mamma!” he beamed at her.

Her hand flew to her mouth, and tears welled up in her eyes. He didn’t have to say anything else, or tell her that he remembered her; she was already jumping from her chair and pulling him into her arms. He hugged her back. She smelled just like he remembered. Like summer and spices and _home._

 

* * *

 

Later that day, Marco went out on his father’s boat. He hadn’t spoken to his dad in so long. And he hadn’t had the knowledge to miss him. They had barely spoken since he’d gotten back to Italy. It wasn’t quite normal for his father to be out on the water in the afternoon, but they both liked the quiet.

“So, how has your work been?” his father asked. 

“It’s been, uh, well, good and bad.” Marco laughed, being careful not to spill his can of lemonade as the boat rocked on the gentle waves. “I love my colleagues, but I did, y’know, lose my arm and memories.”

“Which do you think was worse?” his dad asked. 

“The memories, definitely.” Marco answered immediately. He smiled at his dad. It had always been easy to talk with him. “I mean, they’re both _bad.”_ he laughed awkwardly, while his dad remained quiet, listening earnestly. “But losing my arm would not have been as bad if there were people around me that I knew and loved.” he heard his dad sniffle. 

“Oh, Marco.” he cried, with eyes mirroring the waters they rocked upon. “Mi dipiace.” _I’m sorry._

“Dad, you didn’t know!” Marco cried, setting down his lemonade and standing. “No one knew!” he pulled his father into a hug as best he could. Mr. Boveri held onto his son as tightly as possible. 

“I’m so glad you’re home!” he wept. He pulled back eventually. “I’m alright, really.” he wiped the tears from his tanned face. Marco could see that his dad had aged a lot in four years. “So, you, ah, you have good friends there in Germany?”

“Yeah, I do.” Marco smiled. “Actually, a couple just got engaged there.”

“Ah, that’s lovely!” his dad smiled genuinely. “And what about you?”

Marco was a little confused. “What do you mean?”

“Anyone caught your eye in the workplace, or do you prefer to keep it more professional?”

Marco thoughts flew directly to Jean. He bent to pick up his can of lemonade and drank from it deeply, as if he could perhaps avoid the question that way. 

As soon as he moved the can away from his mouth his dad asked again, “That Jean boy and you seem quite close.” Marco swallowed the carbonated lemonade down his windpipe. After his dad was quite sure his son wasn’t going to choke to death, he laughed. “Should I take that to mean something?”

Marco blushed. He hadn’t ever really told his father that he was gay, but then, his father had never really assumed he wasn’t. Marco guessed that it just wasn’t too hard to figure out.

“We, uh, we went on one date, a little after Christmas, but nothing else has really happened.” Marco confessed.

“I think he likes you.” his dad said, perfectly calm. 

“I think you’re right.” Marco smiled. Then he sighed. “I haven’t been very kind to him, though.”

“No?”

Marco shook his head. “No.” he said. “I’ve been really focused on myself, and I think I’ve been a pretty bad friend, let alone anything else.”

“Marco,” his dad said strongly. “It is not bad to be focused on yourself, if you need to be. You are very important, and you haven’t been well, no?”

“Well, no, I haven’t.” Marco admitted.

“I am sure Jean understands that.” his dad nodded. “And if he doesn’t, he probably won’t make a very good boyfriend.”

Marco laughed. “Thanks, Dad. I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

* * *

 

Marco moved over to where Jean was leaning on the railing, staring at the glittering ocean. 

“Hey,” Marco called out.

Jean turned and smiled brightly. “Hey, how’re you doing?”

“Pretty good.” Marco said.

“You’re feeling okay, you don’t have a headache or anything?” Jean asked.

Marco shook his head. “Nope. I feel great.”

“Good.” Jean nodded. “You know, I meant it.”

“Meant what?”

“That even if you had never gotten your memories back, I would still be so unbelievably happy to have you back in my life.” Marco’s eyes filled with tears. “But, I am glad that you did get them back, because _you_ look happier.” Jean poked him in the chest.

Marco nodded. “Thanks, Jean.”

“Are you?”

“Am I what?” 

“Happier.”

Marco thought about it. “Yes.” he said. “I am. I’m very happy.” he smiled. “I’m happy to remember my family, and my life, and you.” 

Jean blushed and wrapped his arms around Marco’s waist. Marco gazed at him gently. He leaned forward slightly, and Jean looked into his eyes, nodded slightly and smiled.

Marco smiled right back and softly pressed his mouth to Jean’s. The kiss wasn’t perfect, they both knew. Jean was smiling, and Marco bumped into his nose, and they dissolved into giggles far too early, being childishly embarrassed for two adults.

But hey, they would definitely have more than enough time to practice. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was up a bit late last night and I almost just published my Narrative Essay instead of the last chapter. Oops!   
> THE LAST CHAPTER THOUGH  
> THIS IS THE END  
> THE VERY END GUYS  
> I'm kind of sad that didn't bring them back to Weiss Schloss, and have them everyone react to Marco really being back, but it just didn't quite fit in the narrative, and it would have felt a bit clunky. So you can imagine that there was a super big, excited group hug! Connie cried.   
> Thank you all for supporting this, and I hope you loved it.


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